


lavender & smoke

by IceImagines



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: "platonic" neck kisses, F/F, Flangst?, Fluffy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Overwatch Femslash Big Bang, Semi-established relationship, and by that i mean both of them think the pining is one sided, discussion of panic attacks, discussion of past trauma, i can and i will write 25k words of character study, painful but like in a soft way, sombra centric, sombra has an existential crisis: the fic, they love each other s o m u c h, well it's clearly there but there's a fade to black
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 07:24:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17824439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceImagines/pseuds/IceImagines
Summary: It was never part of Sombra's plan to fall in love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> finally it it time friends...
> 
> i wrote this fic for the overwatch femslash bigbang and have been sitting on it for half a year, and i am so unbelievably excited to get to post it. in a way, i'm thinking of it as a spiritual successor to a gentle ruination, but it's much, much better and i'm much happier with it, and i just hope you guys have as good a time reading as i had writing this! 
> 
> special thanks to my amazing friend margaret who proofread the whole thing with special focus on chapter 3! your feedback was so important to me when editing this fic and i'm forever indebted to you. i'd even beta your winstonmaker fics T.T 
> 
> thank you also to coll, who helped me with the french!
> 
> and thank you, of course, to my wonderful artists! it's been such a joy working with you all and i love all the art you made to help bring this story to life <3
> 
> now - have fun reading, and maybe leave me a comment if you enjoyed it!

Sombra‘s room was dark when she slipped through the door, the only thing allowing her to orientate herself being a single violet holoscreen that was still floating above her desk. Her ocular implants shifted and buzzed slightly as the delicate circuits did their best to adjust to the low light, causing an unpleasant stinging sensation. 

Grimacing, she massaged her temple with one hand while stumbling across the room to where she knew from experience her bed stood. She did her best not to trip over anything that was lying around on the floor, but it proved a rather difficult task. The thin carpet was covered in a lot of spots by clothes she hadn‘t bothered to put back in her closet, empty dorito bags and energy drink cans, cables and spare pieces of hardware. She was used to the mess, and usually she could navigate it easily enough, but tonight, exhaustion took its toll on her. Just before she could reach the bed, her toe caught on something, she stumbled, and fell over, arms flailing wildly and trying to find something to catch herself on. Her fingers met nothing but the slightly stuffy air, warmed by several of the large machines in the room, but she was lucky. She had been standing just a few feet away from her bed, and instead of landing on the floor, her fall was considerably softened by the mattress and crumpled bedsheets. 

For a moment, she seriously contemplated just staying like this, without changing or even taking her shoes off. She was exhausted enough to fall asleep where she was, half on the bed, half on the floor. But then something shifted underneath her and she suddenly realized that not only the mattress had broken her fall. 

„Sombra?“ 

Widow‘s voice was rough with sleep, and so quiet Sombra barely caught it. She scrambled to get up, allowing the woman in her bed to roll over onto her back and get a look at her nightly assailant. 

„Shit. Sorry.“ Sombra managed to maneuver herself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Her head was still pounding. It got slightly better when she closed her eyes, which didn‘t help with the fact that she was still so tired her words seemed to fall from her lips almost of their own accord. „Didn‘t realize you were...“ She made a vague gesture, hoping Widow would be able to see it at all in the near-darkness. 

The sniper in question had pushed herself up onto her forearms, only haphazardly covered by the sheets. Her golden eyes were wide open. They seemed to almost catch and reflect the faint light, like the eyes of a cat. 

„I should have told you I might be here when you got back.“ Her voice was less husky now, but her tone was still the same flat softness Sombra was used to from her. She had found it off putting at first, but after years of working with her, and a few months since this had developed, whatever it was, she had learned to read Widow fairly well. Even now, she could see it in the slight tilt of her head, the frown that adorned her delicate features, though it was mostly swallowed up by the darkness. 

„It‘s fine.“ Sombra fought back a yawn. „Could have guessed myself. It‘s not like this is the first time or whatever.“ 

That was the truth. Over the course of the past few weeks, Widow had been spending her nights here more and more often. In the evenings, she just suddenly appeared in Sombra‘s doorstep and made herself comfortable on her bed, and in all honesty, Sombra was both too shocked to say anything about it, and too intrigued.

It just wasn‘t usually at one am. 

A sigh made its way past her chapped lips. Slowly, and with much more effort than it should have taken, she peeled off her coat, then her shoes, and finally the thin jumpsuit she wore underneath. Blindly, she reached for the spot on the floor where she thought she had thrown her favorite t-shirt this morning, found something soft and large, and decided it was good enough. She pulled it over her head and then crawled onto the mattress with Widow. Her clothes were left on the floor where they were. She could always pick them up tomorrow if need be. Right now, she just wanted to sleep. Her eyelids felt heavy as lead. 

She felt Widow shift around to make room for her and lift up the blanket so Sombra could fit underneath it. It was almost a routine by now. On any other night, Sombra might have agonized over that fact, tried to rationalize it away as she was so terribly fond of doing, but now, all she knew was that Widow snuggling up to her beneath the covers was familiar, and comforting, and even her cool skin felt like a relief to Sombra‘s aching head. She buried her face in Widow‘s neck, an arm sloppily finding its way around her waist. Faintly, she felt the sniper‘s fingers threading through her hair. 

„Why‘re you here, _araña?_ “, Sombra murmured into her clavicle. Widow hugged her closer. She took a few moments to answer. 

„I couldn‘t sleep.“ 

Sombra yawned again. „Sleep. Now.“ Coherent sentences suddenly seemed like an unimaginable effort. The last thing she perceived before drifting off was Widow‘s low chuckle close to her ear, and the press of cold lips to her temple, almost as if Widow knew that it hurt. 

 

She awoke hours later with a start, and an immediate, urging sense of danger, a need to flee that was so overwhelming for a moment that she scrambled to get out of bed, almost panicking. But by the time she had managed to untangle herself from the sheets and Widow‘s arms, some clarity had returned to her. Her struggling stilled, and she forced herself to close her eyes, take deep breaths. Gradually, she realized that she was soaked with sweat, her shirt clinging uncomfortably to her back. Her heart was pounding in chest as if she had been running for her life. 

There were vague images at the edges of her mind, impressions of whatever she had dreamt that had put her so on edge, but nothing concrete. There never was. It wasn‘t necessary. Sombra had an idea of what it must have been. 

In the silence of the room, she could still faintly hear the roaring of the fire, the rattling of the machine guns, the groaning of her house‘s walls as it collapsed above her. 

She grit her teeth against the memories she didn‘t want. _Mierda_. She had just wanted to sleep.

Widow shifted beside her. Sombra had to bite back a groan. Widow had always been a light sleeper, shaken out of her slumber by the slightest disturbance, the rare times she could calm herself enough to fall asleep in the first place. It was part of Sombra‘s guilt at the realization that she was responsible for waking her up, for the second time that night.

She felt the mattress shift as Widow sat up. Cold arms wrapped lightly around her from behind, Widow‘s chin resting on her shoulder. 

„ _Tu vas bien, chérie?_ “ 

She often slipped into French when she was very tired or agitated. The language was similar enough to Spanish, and Sombra had picked up a few of Widow‘s most common phrases in the months since they had grown closer. It was enough to understand her in most cases. 

„I‘m fine.“ The words came out shaky and sounded fake even to Sombra‘s own ears. 

„ _Cauchemar?_ “ 

She exhaled deeply.

„Yeah.“ 

Widow‘s arms tightened around her waist. She didn‘t speak anymore. For a moment, Sombra let herself lean back into her embrace, breathe in that familiar scent of lavender shampoo with a trace of smoke under it that wasn‘t unpleasant but still seemed to follow her everywhere she went. But then she remembered that she was covered in sweat and probably smelled and felt gross, and she reluctantly wrenched herself free of Widow‘s arms.

„I... I‘ll go take a shower.“ 

Widow was silent, just watched Sombra force herself to get up and make her way to the adjacent bathroom on wobbly legs, eyes big and wide awake. Sombra couldn‘t bear to return her gaze. 

In the shower, she turned the temperature to ice cold to cool off her overheated body. The wires running all throughout her body didn‘t exactly help. When she thought about too many things at once, or used too many of her implants at the same time, sometimes the wires ran so hot it actually physically hurt. They tended to do the same during nightmares. If Sombra looked at her arm very closely, she could faintly see thin red lines underneath her skin. 

She grimaced. She‘d have to get some more biotic fluid from Moira to make sure there was no lasting damage. She hated having to go to Moira. 

Her head still hurt, but for a different reason than when she‘d gone to bed. The pounding in her temples had subsided to a dull ache while she‘d slept, but now there were the fires from twenty-four years ago burning inside her mind, fires she‘d tried to forget ever since. 

She stood in the shower for a few more minutes, hoping the cold water would soothe the pain, but all it did was make goosebumps break out on her skin. With shaking hands, she turned it off and reached for her towel in the half-darkness. All tiredness had left her, maybe on account of the water, maybe just because of the leftover adrenaline from her abrupt waking up. The thought of going back to bed seemed disgusting all of a sudden. 

Wrapped in just her towel, she padded back into her bedroom, more careful not to step on anything this time. Widow was still awake, sitting upright in bed, the sheets pooled around her. 

„Better?“, she asked quietly. 

„I don‘t know.“ 

It was true. The panic from before had vanished, but it had been replaced with a sense of restlessness that twisted her insides and put her on edge just as much. Jerkily, she pulled open a drawer and grabbed the first set of clean clothes she came across. 

„Will you come back to bed?“

Sombra paused. Everything in her screamed to say no, even thought she knew she needed the rest, she had work to do in the morning, and the mission had taken a lot out of her. But she was sure she wouldn‘t be able to fall asleep again, and the thought of lying around in bed, staring up at the ceiling for hours, seemed unbearable. 

„Widow, do you want to get off this base?“

The words were out before she realized it. She looked over her shoulder nervously, trying to gauge Widow‘s reaction. Her expression hadn‘t changed.

„I need permission from Akande to leave the headquarters.“ 

Sombra snorted. „Who cares what Akande says?“ 

Widow hesitated for a moment. „What do you want to do outside?“ 

„I have no idea. I just... need to get out. And I‘d rather do it with you than alone.“ 

After another moment, Widow gave a small nod. „Okay.“ 

Sombra tried to keep the wave of overwhelming relief that washed over her off her face. She‘d never had a problem with spending time alone, and the big city outside didn‘t scare her. But right now, she just wanted Widow with her, and she was too winded to spend time thinking about why. 

She grabbed her clothes and went back into the bathroom to get dressed while Widow pushed the sheets off and swung her legs off the side of the bed. Everything still seemed to hurt - her burned skin, her head, her own mind - but the promise of breathing in the night air and walking until her legs grew tired, Widow by her side, made it seem a thousand times more bearable. 

 

Sombra wasn‘t sure what it was about the woman that entranced her so much. She‘d had all of Talon wrapped around her little finger the moment she‘d joined years prior. She had read every single file on their servers, no matter how well encrypted they were. At night, when she lay tangled up with Widowmaker and traced her fingers over her cold skin as she slept, she knew every nanite in her veins, every modified string of DNA, every cut Talon‘s scientists had made to make her theirs, heart, body and soul. She knew the tracking device implanted underneath the spider tattooed all over Widow‘s back. She knew the microchip in her brain. She knew the wires in her muscles, the metal ports in her temples, the circuits behind her eyes, almost like Sombra‘s own. Sombra was intimately familiar with Widowmaker‘s body on a morbid, strictly technical level, more so than she supposed the woman ever could.

Talon‘s prized project was a wretched, sad creature, the result of a modern Frankenstein-esque experiment intended to deprive her of all her humanity and turn her into a thing the Council could use. Bony shoulders, ribs showing beneath delicate skin, colored a sickly light blue. Hair down to her knees that she didn‘t cut because she had simply forgotten that she could. Hollow, empty eyes surrounded by shadows that seemed to be rooted deeper than anything Talon could have done to her body. 

Except it wasn‘t that simple. It wasn‘t that simple at all, and Sombra realized that over and over in every moment she spent with Widow. She realized it again now, after she‘d snuck the two of them out of the building and onto the streets of Venice, busy even in the middle of the night, the darkness lit up with yellow and white and multicolored lights from windows and lanterns and countless other pieces of life that kept this city‘s heart beating. Sombra instantly felt better the moment she stepped out of the gate in the fence surrounding the headquarters‘ property. Venice was nothing like Dorado, where she‘d grown up, but she‘d learned to love it all the same. 

A smile began tugging at the edge of her mouth as she walked, Widow close behind her. She‘d left her hair loose, making her look even more unearthly in the dim light. She was beautiful, and the realization of just how much sent a shiver down Sombra‘s spine every time she turned around to make sure she hadn‘t lost her. Widow stood out from the crowd effortlessly, and on any other night Sombra would have worried about the consequences, but not now. Now, all she could think about was the cool air filling her lungs and clearing her head of the fire, and the city throbbing with life around her, and the woman right behind her, keeping up with her easily no matter how unpredictable her movements were, how random the turns she took. 

Sombra didn‘t realize she‘d reached for Widow‘s hand until the sniper‘s cold fingers were already brushing hers. For a moment, she was startled, but then Widow laced their fingers together like it was the most normal thing in the world, and that hint of a smile became a broad grin that Sombra quickly tried to hide by turning her head away, but she knew Widow had seen anyway. 

This wasn‘t the first time they did this. It wasn‘t even the second or third time. The touch of Widow‘s hand was familiar by now, effortless. But the surge of wild happiness it sent through Sombra still caught her off guard every time. She remembered the time too well when they‘d had no affection for each other, instead a lack of understanding with an irrational rivalry and underlying festering animosity that had made their necessary work relationship unpleasant, to say the least. She remembered the frown on Widow‘s face that she‘d been the cause of so often. She remembered her own irritation at Widow‘s coldness, how her unfeeling efficiency had almost scared her. 

It seemed incredible now. She stole a glance at the woman walking next to her, smile still lingering on her lips, and felt something warm bloom in her chest, in time with her heart thrumming against her ribcage. 

_How are you doing this?_ , she wanted to ask, the words already on her lips before she swallowed them down. Widow‘s face was neutral as always, nothing betraying what she was thinking or feeling, but Sombra felt her gently squeezing her hand, and that was more than enough. 

There were a million different fates brushing for a moment in this place, a million tiny things happening that, in the bigger picture, might change everything eventually. But as long as Sombra was walking along those streets, fingers intertwined with Widow‘s, none of it could touch her, and none of it needed to.

She wasn‘t sure for how long they walked, but some time, the sky above them began growing lighter, the stars slowly vanishing, replaced by traces of orange and violet. The sun rose above the sea in Venice, a breathtaking sight that the isolated location of the headquarters deprived them of on most days. Sombra tugged Widow to a halt next to a railing overseeing the spot where the Grand Canal merged with the open sea. She leaned forward a bit, bracing herself on the railing with her forearms, and took several deep breaths of the cool air. This, she knew. Dorado was a coastal city; this smell had accompanied her everywhere she went for most of her life. If all the walking hadn‘t done the trick yet, breathing it in now got rid of the last remnants of that terrible restlessness in Sombra. Combined with the breathtaking sight before her, the rising sun painting the sky with the first dull shades of orange, the moon still visible even though the stars had already vanished, it was almost enough to make Sombra forget why she‘d come here in the first place. 

Almost. 

When she looked down at her exposed arms, there were still traces of red from her overheated wires. It hurt a little, but worse was knowing what had caused the burns. She was half a world away from a city that hadn‘t been burning for twenty-four years, but the flames still licked at the edges of her mind, no matter how far she ran. _Pathetic_.

„Beautiful.“ 

Widow. She was standing next to Sombra, staring out onto the sea with her usual solemn expressing, but the lines of her face seemed less harsh somehow. Her brow just a little higher. Just a little less tension at the corners of her mouth. 

The first sunlight was reflected in her golden eyes, and the wind ruffled her endless hair slightly, and Sombra was already opening her mouth to respond with some horrible quip about how she was much more beautiful than the sunrise, before abruptly remembering that not only was there a possibility that Widow wouldn‘t get it, making it awkward for both of them, it was also better for everyone involved if she simply kept those thoughts to herself. It was bad enough that Widow was still holding her hand, with no sign of letting go anytime soon, and Sombra couldn‘t bring herself to do it instead. 

So Sombra just nodded and remained silent, even while her mind was nearly overflowing with things to say, some of them smart, some of them funny, some of them flirty, but not a single one appropriate for the situation. Everything she could think of seemed wrong somehow, and she started to despise the silence she had initially enjoyed so much. 

„I have nightmares, as well.“ 

Sombra turned her head in surprise. Widow wasn‘t meeting her gaze, her eyes still fixated on the horizon before them. 

„You... you do?“

A small nod. Sombra turned to fully face Widow. 

„About what?“ 

Widow was silent for a moment, and Sombra began to worry she had crossed some sort of unspoken boundary, already retreating and drawing her hand back from where it had still been holding Widow‘s. 

„You don‘t have to tell me. Sorry.“ 

But Widow tightened her grip on her hand, not enough to hurt, but enough to make it clear that she didn‘t want Sombra to let go of it. After a few more of her slow heartbeats, she began to speak. 

„I dream of a room. The ceiling is too low for me to stand up. The walls are black. There is no light. It‘s cold and the smell is horrible...“ Her voice trailed off for a moment before she caught herself, taking a deep breath.

„There is a door. It‘s too dark to see, but I can feel the thin gaps in the wall. I know what is on the other side of the door. I fear the moment it will open.“ 

Her words hung heavy in the air between them. Sombra had an idea what she was talking about, having read every file Talon had on Amélie Lacroix‘s kidnapping, torture and eventual neural reconditioning. In the early stages of her capture, she had been kept in a cell like that. They would have taken her out only for more of the humiliating, horribly painful and frightening procedures they put her through on a daily basis. 

No wonder she had been afraid of the door opening. 

A part of Sombra suddenly wanted to burst out with the whole story of what had happened all those years ago. Wanted to tell Widow about the fire and the ruins and the monsters, the memories that kept her up at night. It felt oddly wrong to keep it to herself, now that Widow had trusted her with this, these things she had probably never told anyone about, because she‘d had no one for so many years. It didn‘t feel fair. 

But no matter how Sombra wanted to force the words across her tongue, they wouldn‘t come out. She exhaled sharply, frustrated, keeping her gaze locked on the water below them. So early in the morning, it was calm, the surface moved only by the wind and the water‘s natural flow, instead of by dozens of gondolas that functioned as public and private transport in Venice. A sharp contrast to the turmoil within Sombra. 

A sudden gust of wind caught her hair and blew it into her face. Grimacing, she tried to tame the brown and purple mass, regretting suddenly that she hadn‘t bothered to comb it earlier. She was caught off guard when cold fingers suddenly brushed her cheek, tucking the most unruly strands behind her ear gently. Sombra turned her head to stare at Widow in surprise. The sniper moved to pull her hand away, but this time, Sombra was the one who reached up and held it where it was cradling the side of her face. The indulgence added to her guilt, but she couldn‘t help it. Widow‘s touch felt too good, too comforting, even though Sombra knew she had no right to it. 

„I‘m sorry“, she sighed. 

„What are you sorry for?“ The surprise in Widow‘s voice seemed genuine. 

„For everything.“ 

She felt Widow‘s thumb lightly stroke her cheek. Instinctively, she leaned further into the touch, closing her eyes for a moment.

„ _Petite ombre_ , you should not waste your apologies on things you aren‘t guilty of.“

[](https://www.directupload.net)

A small chuckle escaped Sombra‘s lips. „You‘d be surprised, _araña._ “

„No, I don‘t believe I would.“ The sniper‘s expression hadn‘t changed, but Sombra could tell she meant what she said. It took a weight of Sombra‘s chest she‘d barely been aware had been there, but now that it was gone, breathing suddenly felt infinitely easier. 

Without thinking about it, she reached out and pulled Widow into a hug, hiding her face in the crook of her neck. For a moment, she felt her stiffen, before she exhaled, let her shoulders drop and carefully, almost experimentally wrapped her arms around Sombra. 

„Thanks for coming out here with me“, Sombra mumbled against her skin. She felt her lightly shake her head. 

„I... I think I needed this as much as you did.“ 

The sun rising behind them, and the streets slowly coming to life more and more with each passing minute, for a brief moment, Sombra couldn‘t have been happier. The knowledge was lurking in the back of her mind that it wouldn‘t last, but she pushed it to the side and tightened her arms around Widow. 

She just wanted this to last. Just this once. _Please_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY PSA SINCE THIS MISUNDERSTANDING HAS HAPPENED BEFORE: this is a multichapter! I uploaded all the chapters at once and some people didn’t notice that fact the first time, which is understandable, but i still wanna draw attention to it lol if you read the first chapter and enjoyed it, i promise you‘ll like the rest too. the story doesn’t end here! 
> 
> translations:
> 
> araña - spider
> 
> mierda - shit
> 
> tu vas bien, chérie? - are you alright, my dear?
> 
> cauchemar - nightmare
> 
> petite ombre - little shadow
> 
> the artist featured in this chapter is the amazing @hanghr on tumblr! thank you so much for this piece, i am truly blown away every time i look at it!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for detailed discussions of heavy injuries, being trapped in a small enclosed space, past trauma & panic attacks!

The waiting room smelled of antiseptic, even with a steel door between it and the actual examination room. Everything was illuminated by bright white lighting strips in the ceiling that made the five plastic chairs, the metal floor, the two doors seem cold and harsh. The air that was pumped through the venting slits near the ceiling felt colder than it would have needed to be. Sombra shivered and tried in vain to sink herself deeper into her favorite purple hoodie. 

Widow, who was sitting in the chair next to her, showed no reaction to the temperature, of course. Sombra had heard her brag about how she didn‘t feel the cold, but she was pretty sure that she simply lacked the ability to process it into actual discomfort. She could have been frozen stiff and not complained once. Concerning, as was the look in her eyes - impossibly more vacant than usually, more detached, but there was also a hint of something on her face that Sombra had taken longer to identify as fear than she logically should have. It didn‘t seem to suit Widow, even though Sombra knew she had every right to be scared.

Sombra really had no idea why Moira‘s sorry excuse for a medical practice even had a waiting room. It wasn‘t as though there were any notable patients other than Widow. Maybe it was to make Moira feel more like an actual respectable doctor. Sombra scoffed at the thought. The woman might have had a few PhDs, but Sombra knew for a fact that she wasn‘t actually a properly trained physician. She was a geneticist. She had invented the bioengineering method that had been used on Widowmaker, and that was why she oversaw her physical maintenance. 

Widow hated having to go to Moira‘s. She tried to avoid it all costs, to the point where she‘d rather sneak out of the hangar and to Sombra‘s room after a mission to have the hacker clean and stitch up bullet wounds and deep, bleeding gashes. Sombra had tried to make her go once or twice, but the panic in Widow‘s eyes at just the idea had quickly changed her mind. Since then, she‘d done everything she could to hinder the regular examinations Talon deemed necessary, making Moira‘s machinery malfunction, hacking the electronic lock to her office so it wouldn‘t open, messing with her personal schedule to make her accidentally plan two appointments at the same time, and whatever else she could think of. She‘d succeeded in making the examinations much rarer than they were supposed to be, but she hadn‘t been able to circumvent this one. Moira had insisted on it.

Semi-annually, Widow‘s hormone levels were evaluated. If they were too high, she would be put through a secondary reconditioning procedure. The time for that evaluation was now.

Hence Widow‘s unusually high anxiety regarding this appointment. Sombra always waited with her before the examinations began, and she had never seen her like this. She fidgeted, playing with one of her endless strands of hair that fell all the way into her lap. Sombra had never seen her fidget before. Normally, Widow sat still as a statue, barely even breathing. This restlessness was new, and unnerving, and the worst part was that it was entirely justified. 

Reconditioning wasn‘t quite on the level of horror as the initial procedures Amélie Lacroix had been put through seven years ago, but that didn‘t mean it wasn‘t still enough to make Sombra‘s stomach churn when she read through descriptions of it. 

„Have they ever actually gone through with it?“ She asked the question out of desire to fill the silence as much as out of genuine curiosity. 

„Twice.“ Widow‘s voice sounded flatter than usual. She didn‘t look at Sombra as she spoke. 

„How long ago?“

„Once after my first six months. Once two years ago. My microchip had suffered a malfunction.“ She sounded like she was reciting a protocol, not telling Sombra about a real life experience. The hand that wasn‘t busy twisting in her hair gripped the edge of her seat so tightly that even with her blue skin, her knuckles were white. 

„That‘s two out of fourteen examinations. So statistically, there‘s only a 14.29 percent probability that anything will happen this time.“ Sombra tried to make herself sound more confident in that number than she actually was, but it didn‘t seem to matter. Widow didn‘t reply. 

A deep sigh escaped Sombra‘s lips. She pulled up a screen and began tapping at something, her brain barely registering what even though her circuits instinctively made her fingers move in the right ways. This was such a routine that she barely needed to consciously think about it, and it didn‘t serve very well to distract her. Half-heartedly, she did a quick search throughout the internet for anything more exciting she could sink her claws into, but amazingly, there didn‘t seem to be anything. At least not at first glance, and she was much too agitated for a second glance. 

„You know, I‘ve always hated waiting rooms as well.“ The words left her lips almost of their own accord. She halted for a moment, caught off guard by her own honesty, but then decided to keep talking, if only in hopes it would distract Widow. 

„I mean, I wasn‘t in a lot of them when I was younger. When one of us kids got hurt, we had to take care of each other, we couldn‘t really afford a doctor. But there were some tests I had to take before I started HRT, and then again later for my surgeries, and for the cyborgization procedure as well... and I hated it.“ 

A short laugh escaped her. 

„Public hospitals are a fucking pain in the ass. Do you remember public hospitals?“ 

„I do.“ Widow‘s gaze was still fixated on the wall opposite them, but at least she had responded. At least she seemed to be listening to was Sombra was saying. 

„You‘d be sitting on one of those chairs that were so uncomfortable they gave you back pains, fifteen or so other people around you, everyone goddamn miserable. At least a few kids crying. Stuffy, used up air. Probably a gross old dude next to you sneezing on you every once in a while.“ She shook her head. „I swear I usually came out of those things more sick then I went in.“

Was the hint of a smile twitching at the corner of Widow‘s mouth? Quickly, Sombra kept talking, maximizing her efforts. 

„Then again, what do I know, maybe the grand dynasty of Guillard was too fancy for normal hospitals, maybe you had, like, a private doctor or something flown out to your lake castle every time one of you had a headache-“ 

She leaned back in her chair and tipped her head back dramatically, touching her forehead as if in pain. „Ooh, _Monsieur docteur_ , I ‘ave been ‘aving zee most awful migrainez, _oh là là_ -“

A soft noise reached her ears. She glanced to the side, and sure enough - Widowmaker was pressing a hand to her mouth to suppress a giggle she hadn‘t been able to keep down. A wide grin spread across Sombra‘s face. Mission accomplished. 

„Your impression of me is horrible.“

„Your _I am mad at Sombra_ -voice is also pretty horrible.“ She batted her eyelashes at Widow, hanging over the side of her chair, and another chuckle made its way past the sniper‘s lips. 

„Just so that you are aware, we only had a private doctor flown out to the Château one time.“ She held up a single finger as to emphasize her words. 

„Oh? And what for?“ 

„The night I was born, of course.“ 

„Ha! Of course! _Naturellement_ Mademoiselle Guillard was too good to be born in a hospital like the rest of us-“ 

„ _Please_ stop trying to speak French.“ There was no real malice in her voice, a hint of laughter still audible. Sombra just scoffed.

„As if your Spanish was any better. Remember when I tried to teach you how to pronounce _quesadilla_ right?“ 

If Widow had possessed any blood, there would have been a blush on her cheeks by now, Sombra was sure of it. „That is an entirely unfair comparison.“ 

„Oh no, it‘s a very fair comparison. You just don‘t like admitting you suck at something.“ 

Widow had already opened her mouth to reply when suddenly the door at the other end of the room swung open. Sombra‘s head whipped around, and her eyes fell upon Moira herself standing in the doorway, pristine white lab coat on, clipboard in hand. 

„The examination will begin now.“ Her cold mismatched eyes were fixated on Widow. „Come with me, Lacroix.“ 

Abruptly, all traces of happiness vanished from Widow‘s face. She returned to her impassive, hollow stare, posture stiffening up like a music box ballerina that had run out. Sombra swallowed and lightly touched her arm.

„I‘ll wait. I‘ll be right here when you get back, okay?“ 

If Widow had heard her, she didn‘t acknowledge it. She rose from her chair with mechanical movements and crossed the room without looking at Sombra again. Before Moira closed the door behind them, she threw Sombra a last glance, and the look in those red and blue eyes sent an icy shiver down her spine. She and Moira had never gotten along, and Sombra knew that the doctor was under the impression that she was compromising her pet project. In fact, some stolen security camera footage had informed her that Moira had tried to bring it up to Doomfist once or twice, trying to get him to restrict Sombra‘s contact to Widowmaker. So far, she hadn‘t been successful, but the lingering threat remained. 

God, how Sombra hated her. She would‘ve liked nothing more than to hack her way into all of Moira‘s carefully assembled databases and rip it all to shreds just to spite her, but her position with Talon was already on shaky ground after the Volskaya incident, and she didn‘t need them to be even more suspicious of her. 

One day, she wouldn‘t have a use for Talon anymore, and then she‘d be able to properly ruin Dr. O‘Deorains life. But until then, she was forced to sit here in the cold, unnaturally bright waiting room, and wait for Moira to decide whether or not Widow deserved to continue to be a person. 

\---------------

Widow came back out after about one and a half hours. Sombra had kept herself entertained by playing Tetris on one of her screens and tried not to think too hard about what was probably happening behind that metal door right now. She could have hacked the cameras inside, but something stopped her every time she was on the verge of just doing it. Maybe she didn‘t want to violate Widow‘s privacy any more than it was already being violated, but maybe she just didn‘t really want to know, and that made her feel even more ashamed. 

She‘d ushered Widow out of the lower levels and up into her room as quickly as possible, figuring she could use some time away from prying eyes. Widow had remained nonverbal for the better part of an hour, communicating only through barely noticeable nods and head shakes, but Sombra had managed. She had some experience with trauma and its survivors, and this wasn‘t the first time she‘d seen Widow like this. With some gentle coaxing, she‘d gotten her to lay down on the bed with her, not touching her until she initiated physical contact. Sombra had projected a holoscreen into the air above them and put on one of the ancient telenovelas she had downloaded into her secure store, and after a few minutes, she‘d caught Widow‘s eyes wandering to what was happening on the screen instead of staring vacantly into space. Eventually, the woman had shifted closer to Sombra, and closer, and now, two or three hours later, she was lying on Sombra‘s chest, head tucked beneath her chin, one hand idly playing with her hair. The room was dark except for the screen above them, casting a strange violet light over everything. Neither of them were paying attention to the show at this point. Sombra, at least, was fully content to simply listen to Widow‘s slow breathing, feel her weight in her arms, watch her fingers lightly treading through purple and brown strands. She didn‘t like admitting it, but she‘d missed this, missed it every time they were away from each other. Talon had been sending Widow on more and more long-time missions away from base in recent times, and Sombra couldn‘t help but wonder whether it was intentional, whether it was, after all, a result of Moira trying to talk Akande into keeping her away from Widowmaker. It sounded like paranoia, sure, but Moira could be very convincing, and the only thing Akande cared about was the prospering of his organization. Sombra knew he didn‘t agree with what had been done to Widow all those years ago, back before he had even been part of the Council, but that didn‘t stop him from using her to his full advantage. 

She looked down at Widow and tried to imagine what it would be like if Talon permanently forced them apart. Her heart seized in her chest at the thought. She closed her eyes, pained, and buried her nose in Widow‘s hair, breathing in her familiar scent. It made her think back to the first time she‘d noticed it, months ago that seemed like forever. The abandoned research base in Peru. The two weeks filled with numbers racing by in front of her eyes, purple light filling an empty laboratory, vintage wine and Widow, Widow, Widow, again and again. The dance they‘d danced around each other, both burning with curiosity, the adoration in Widow‘s eyes, the timidity in her touch, like she was afraid to break something if she got too close. Sombra remembered one evening they‘d drunk a little too much, the light outside the one-way windows looking over the slope of the mountain already faded, and Widow‘s hand in hers, the other on her shoulder, as she‘d tried to teach her how to waltz. Sombra had been hopeless, and she‘d never thought she‘d even want to try, but something in Widow‘s voice as she did her best to explain the steps, that soft, breathy accent, the chuckle she let out when Sombra tripped and stumbled right into her, something in it had made her want to keep going, no matter how pointless it was. 

Then the earthquake had struck and they‘d barely made it into the facility‘s basement before everything had collapsed above them. Sombra remembered that, too. The stone dust filling the air. The darkness, pierced only by her own glowing neural implants. The terribly small enclosure they‘d been stuck in, dozens of metric tons of rock piling overtop, no way out. Widow clinging to her, her left leg half crushed by a falling chunk of debris, hands sticky with blueish blood substitute, golden eyes glassy, fogged over with pain and fear, fear Sombra had had no idea she was even capable of. 

Sombra still had no idea how long they‘d been trapped until rescue had arrived, only that Widow had only survived by a hair, that she hadn‘t been able to stand small spaces ever since, that when she looked down, sometimes she still saw flashes of that dark blue staining her hands. That nothing had been the same ever since. 

Instinctively, she shifted, pulling Widow closer. The woman happily complied, craning her neck a little to press a kiss to the base of Sombra‘s neck. In the background, the on-screen couple passionately argued in Spanish. None of the words ever reached Sombra‘s ears. 

„ _Chérie_ “, Widow mumbled against her skin. 

„Hm?“ 

„Thank you.“ 

Sombra frowned. „Thank you for what?“

„For... this. All of it.“ 

She didn‘t elaborate further on it, but Sombra had an idea of what she meant, even though she herself didn‘t consider it something Widow needed to thank her for at all. But that was something she‘d gotten used to ever since their relationship had shifted after that cave-in. Widow constantly seemed astonished by things that anyone else would have considered normal. In the beginning, she hadn‘t been able to comprehend Sombra doing the simplest of things for her, like bringing her coffee up to her room in the mornings when the thought of leaving it seemed overwhelming. Or like helping her zip up the impossible suit that Talon made her wear on missions. 

Or like going with her into that waiting room and still being there when she came back out. 

It was heartbreaking to watch. Since the day they‘d brought her here, the only human contact Widowmaker had been allowed had exclusively been associated with pain. There were the doctors that cut her open, the scientists that pumped her veins full of chemicals, the handlers that tortured her, sometimes because they were told to do it, sometimes because they wanted to. There were the officers that told her who to kill. And there was Gabriel, who barely dared to look at her out of overwhelming guilt and shame. Sombra wasn‘t sure whether he‘d already been part of Talon when Amélie Lacroix had been abducted, but it didn‘t matter by now. He‘d known her when she‘d been the wife of one of his closest friends, and he‘d been there to watch her be transformed into a machine that barely recognized him when she looked at him. It was more than his already fractured mind could bear. 

Sombra almost wished she could be angry at him, but she couldn‘t. He was just as broken as Widow, and the difference between them was that he was horribly aware of it all. Sombra knew he made sure Widow never got hurt on missions. That was all she could ask of him.

She, too, had been like that around Widow for a long time. Not necessarily for the same reasons, but in the end, had it really made a difference? For almost three years, she‘d been there, had been looking at this woman every day and only seen the circuits in her brain, the red dots she painted onto the heads of her victims. She‘d cut her open a thousand times with her gaze, read her files without her permission, incorporated her in her little schemes. _Used_ her just like everyone else. 

There were times when Sombra wondered how much of the change in whatever it was between them was her own guilt and disgust with herself. She‘d look at Widow sleeping next to her in the middle of night and something would tell her to run, take what she could and save herself before it was too late, do just what she‘d been doing all her life. But then Widow would roll over in bed, throw an arm over her waist and press her nose into the back of her neck, all without ever waking up, and Sombra knew that she couldn‘t leave. And the worst part was that she didn‘t want to. 

In the present, she let out a deep sigh and kissed the top of Widow‘s head. „If you have to, just consider it me returning a favor.“

„Returning a favor?“

Sombra raised an eyebrow. „Now, don‘t tell me you don‘t remember, _querida_. The server room? Few months ago?“

„Oh. That.“ 

A small chuckle made its way past Sombra‘s lips. „That was just as bad, don‘t you think?“ 

„You never told me what caused it.“ 

Sombra paused for a moment. There was no accusation in Widow‘s voice, only mild curiosity. She hadn‘t even phrased it like a question, but Sombra could tell she wanted to know. She was still debating with herself over whether or not to indulge her when Widow seemed to realize she had overstepped a boundary.

„ _Desolée_.“ She started to roll off of Sombra, sitting up in bed, but Sombra reached out and took her arm.

„Widow.“ She gave her a slight smile. „It‘s fine.“

Widow tilted her head, teeth worrying her bottom lip. It was cute. „Are you sure?“ 

„I‘m sure. Now come here.“ 

After a moment‘s hesitation, Widow laid back down, shuffling about until she was back in the comfortable position from before, head nestled in the crook of Sombra‘s neck. Sombra absentmindedly started combing through Widow‘s endless hair with her fingers while she thought. It had been months since the occurrence, but it still left a bitter taste in her mouth to think about it. Well before that disastrous stake-out mission in Peru, it had been the first time she‘d ever shown weakness to Widow, or to anyone, really, since she‘d been a child. She‘d been working on a minor security breach in Talon‘s cyber defenses, an amateurish hacker hired by some upstart arms dealer who had tried to steal some data on the bioengineering techniques that Moira O‘Deorain had developed. He hadn‘t gotten very far, but Doomfist had still wanted Sombra to investigate and find out who had hired him. She‘d complied, because it was easy for her and she wanted to keep her good standing with the Council, no matter how pointless it was. Everything had been going perfectly smoothly until she‘d started feeding the arms dealer‘s databases through her filters to try and catch anything that might be interesting. 

The guy had been in possession of some old exemplars of the modified Bastion units that had been sent by the South American Omnium to demolish multiple cities along the Eastern coast of Mexico. Dorado had been one of those cities. 

These machines had killed Sombra‘s parents. She still had nightmares of their red eyes glowing in the night while her city burned behind them. 

The moment she‘d laid eyes on a picture of one, a fuse blew somewhere. Within moments, she‘d been reduced to a crying, whimpering mess, tripping over her own feet in an attempt to flee and unable to find the strength in herself to get back up. She‘d cowered there on the floor of the server room, back pressed against the wall, instinctively trying to make herself as small as possible, as if her survival again depended on whether or not she could hold still beneath the kitchen table that her house had collapsed onto. 

The last time she‘d had a panic attack had been when she‘d been sixteen. She had completely forgotten how to handle it. 

In retrospect, she‘d been lucky that Widow had been there, lingering in the doorframe of the server room, watching her work quietly. At that point, Sombra had been more than aware of the sniper‘s interest in her, but she hadn‘t cared enough to react, not even to tell her to go away and let her work in peace. She‘d more or less forgotten her presence while reducing the arms dealer‘s firewalls to ashes. But then, when she‘d been sitting on the floor helpless, shaking with decades old fear, Widow had silently walked over to her, sat down across from her, not touching her. She‘d remained completely calm, and in that eerie flat, soft voice of hers, had spent the next fifteen minutes telling Sombra over and over that she was safe, that there could not possibly be any other place in the world where she had less reason to be afraid of anyone harming her than right here.

Sombra hadn‘t realized what she‘d meant until hours later, when she was laying in bed, her tears long dry, but Widow‘s words replaying in her mind over and over. There wasn‘t any place safer than that cold, dry server room in the basement of Talon‘s Venice Headquarters because Widow had been in there with her, and Widow wouldn‘t let anyone touch her. Sombra had barely been treating her like a human being for _years_ and instead of resenting her for it, Widow had talked her through her panic and promised to protect her. 

It had been the first fissure in Sombra‘s armor, months before the cave-in. The first glimpse she‘d ever gotten at the person beneath the deathly blue skin and the cold. 

She supposed Widow deserved to know.

„I‘m from Dorado“, she began. „I‘m guessing you‘ve heard of it?“

Widow nodded.

„When the first omnic crisis hit Mexico, I was six years old. We never got a warning. Some of us only had a vague idea of what was going on in the rest of the world. I know that I had no idea what was happening when...“ She took a deep breath. „When we were attacked.“

Almost subconsciously, she wrapped her arm around Widow a little tighter, pulled her a little closer to her. 

„They were Bastion units, just a bit different from the European ones, but the same basic concept. Lots of bullets. Self-repairing. Basically impossible to stop. And we didn‘t have Crusaders like they did in Germany.“

And Overwatch had only been in its early stages. Nobody there could‘ve given a shit about what happened in Mexico. The thought still made bile rise in the back of Sombra‘s throat, even all those years later. The UN‘s darling project. Good looking on posters, but when it came to saving the lives of real people, they were useless.

„They overran us. Most of the outer districts were destroyed more or less completely. Houses collapsed, everything burning. Corpses everywhere, some disfigured beyond recognition.“

„What about you?“, Widow asked quietly. 

„I...“ Her voice trailed off as she tried in vain to find the right words. She could have sworn there was a whiff of the smoke from the fires caught in her nose. She drowned it out with Widow‘s familiar lavender smell. 

„Our house was one of the ones that collapsed. My mom died immediately, my dad managed to crawl out of the ruins, but... one of the Bastion units outside got him. I was lucky, I was hiding beneath the kitchen table and that shielded me from most of the debris falling down. So I survived the initial attack. But it was almost three days until the Omnium called them back, and I couldn‘t come out until then.“ 

„You were trapped beneath the rubble for three days?“ Sombra wasn‘t sure whether that thing in Widow‘s voice was horror or anger, or maybe a combination of the two. Of course she still wasn‘t loud, she never was. Had Sombra not known her so well, she couldn‘t have told a difference at all. For her, however, it was obvious.

„Yeah. They sent rescue teams eventually, mostly made up of the survivors who could still walk. The other cities were busy fending for themselves. They dug me out, but there wasn‘t anything or anyone left to take care of us kids. There were thousands of us. Orphans, or separated from their parents. Some were lucky enough to have relatives somewhere that was hit less harshly, but most of us were on our own after the Crisis.“

„You?“

„Yeah. Me.“ Sombra was silent for moment, trying to shut out the old fear that was rising up inside her, the restlessness in her gut, the feeling that told her to run while she still could. She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of Widow pressed up against her, her fingers tracing patterns over the skin exposed by the loose shirt she was wearing. She counted her slow breaths. In. Out. In Out. Always the same, steady rhythm. 

„ _Je suis là_ “, Widow murmured. „ _Personne ne te fera de mal._ “

Sombra only half understood, but it was enough. Enough to pull her back to the present, for her breathing to even out, some of the tension in her body to melt away. 

„I taught myself hacking sometime after that“, she continued quietly after a moment. „Started learning how to survive. How to use people‘s secrets. I ended up with Los Muertos when I was thirteen. They could be brutal sometimes, but they protected me. Made sure I had something to eat, a place to sleep... all the things the government didn‘t care enough to give us.“

„I‘ve heard of them.“ Widow raised an elegant black eyebrow. „I don‘t see any skeleton tattoos on you, _chérie._ “ 

Sombra gave her a slight grin. „That‘s right, you don‘t see them. They‘re only visible under black light, or after prolonged exposure to it. But I still have them. Hard to get rid of full body tattoos like that.“ 

Widow said nothing, but traced a finger along Sombra‘s arm, roughly where the glowing bones had to be etched into her skin. Sombra felt a shiver run down her spine, and internally flinched when she caught her thoughts wandering, longing for Widow‘s touch in other places, wondering what it might feel like, those cold hands roving over her bare skin- 

_No_. She forced the images aside, before her imagination could get too carried away. It was wrong of her to even be thinking about it. She wasn‘t sure whether Widow even could reciprocate those feelings - and even less whether she wanted to... 

„So, yeah“, Sombra said quickly. „That... that left some baggage, and that day in the server room, I came across something that... reminded me of it. Guess I just snapped.“ 

„Is that what you dream about?“

Sombra thought back to a few weeks ago, how she‘d woken Widow up for the second time that night, the midnight walk trough Venice. A weak chuckle rose from her throat. 

„Yeah. It is.“ 

Neither of them spoke for a while after that. The telenovela was still playing in the background. Sombra thought of turning it off, but the chatter provided pleasant white noise. It helped her not to get too caught up in her own head. The same reason why she always had to be listening to music or have a show playing in the background while she worked. Otherwise, the numbers and endless rows of code in her head would overwhelm her. 

There was no code now, though, and that almost made it more difficult. Sombra had always found it easier to surround herself with machines than with people, and after two decades on the run, she knew she was somewhat... out of practice when it came to social matters. She supposed she and Widow weren‘t that different in that aspect.

Having told her about what had happened to her all that time ago felt like an unimaginable relief at the same time that it felt like an executioner‘s blade hanging above her head. She wasn‘t used to making herself that vulnerable in front of other people, and it scared her sometimes how easily Widow could coax those things out of her, how much influence the woman had over her, and she didn‘t even have to try. A single glance from those gorgeous golden eyes, and Sombra was putty in her hands.

She‘d prepared herself for the world to come after her, with viruses for her data and bullets for her body. She‘d taken precautions to shield herself against any kind of attack, whether physical or cybernetic, and she‘d thought herself invincible for so long, and now... 

What ended up compromising her, everything she‘d been working for, everything she‘d made herself believe, was one woman. One woman who was well on her way to ruining her and Sombra knew she‘d still welcome her with open arms. It was foolish of her, and she knew that, but it wasn‘t enough to get her to move from where she was as she began to feel Widow falling asleep, still pressed firmly against her. She turned off the show with a wave of her hand, dimmed the lights with another and sloppily pulled the covers over them, doing her best not to wake the sleeping woman. She stirred a bit, mumbled something in French against Sombra‘s collarbone, but she didn‘t wake up. Sombra breathed a sigh of relief. She‘d caused Widow enough turmoil already in her time. The least she could do was let her have the rest she needed so desperately. 

Sombra looked at her, studied her face, so peaceful now in sleep, tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear, and finally had to admit something to herself that she‘d known for a long time deep inside.

She was in love, so in love that it hurt. And that scared her more than anything waiting for her outside of these walls, outside of the safety of Widow‘s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations:
> 
> naturellement - of course 
> 
> desolée - i'm sorry 
> 
> je suis là, personne ne te fera de mal - i'm here, no one will hurt you


	3. Chapter 3

The test results came in a week later. Sombra knew what they meant the instant Widow stepped into her room without knocking first. The look on her face said more than any number of words could have. 

Sombra had only seen Widow cry once before: during the cave-in, when it had been out of shock more than anything. This time, it was different. She spent hours curled up in Sombra‘s embrace, clinging to her so tightly that Sombra thought she might rip the fabric of her shirt. She didn‘t say a word, and her body was oddly still, her shoulders stiff and rigid instead of shaking. But Sombra‘s shirt was soaked with her tears within minutes, and once every so often, a small, barely audible sob would escape her lips. 

Sombra could only hold her, stroke her hair and murmur Spanish words of comfort into her ear that she knew Widow only half understood, but she doubted she was paying attention either way. She seemed completely caught up in her own head, almost frozen with fear, barely acknowledging Sombra‘s presence. 

It hurt Sombra‘s heart to see her like this, and the worst part was that she knew that there was nothing she could do to help. Even if she‘d been the most rhetorically talented person in the world, which she definitely was not, no words could have taken Widow‘s mortal fear of what awaited her away. And she couldn‘t sabotage the whole reconditioning procedure, not without considerable risk of hurting or even killing Widow in the process. 

The only thing she could do was stay with her until it was time, and be there when it was over, just like she always had. Only usually, examinations took a few hours, tops, and Widow would come back from them shaken, but alright, comparatively. Reconditioning was a long and complicated process than took up several days if not weeks, Widow would spend most of that time completely sedated, and when the procedure was complete...

If Moira got what she wanted, nothing of the woman Sombra had fallen in love with would be left. The council wanted their unfeeling machine, their human weapon, more mechanical than an omnic could ever have been. Sombra didn‘t know what she would do if the day when they got their wish ever came. 

_You‘ll do what you‘ve always done. You‘ll carry on like you always have._

She tried to tell herself that over and over, while she accompanied Widow down to the laboratories, while she told her goodbye, knowing she couldn‘t hug her or touch her at all while Moira was watching, while she stood and watched that metal door shut behind her. 

Sombra wanted so badly to not care. It hurt, and she didn‘t want it. She wanted the time back when she‘d been happy, left alone with her machines, her numbers and ciphers. Computers made sense, to her. Code was something she could read, manipulate, shape to her liking. Her hunt for the Conspiracy - that single red eye that had flashed on her screens and taken apart everything she had eleven years ago - had dictated the course of her life for a decade, and caring about that and nothing else was safe, it was comfortable. If she never got attached to places, or people, or things, it couldn‘t hurt when she inevitably had to leave them behind, or when they stabbed her in the back first. Nothing mattered as long as she kept finding more traces, as long as the web of connections that all led back to that one red eye kept growing. Even at night, when she couldn‘t sleep, for years she‘d pulled up that web on a screen and studied it, over and over, her brain and the computer that was grafted to it following the familiar pathways until it eventually lulled her to sleep. 

Now, she found, the web couldn‘t help her anymore. At night she didn‘t long for its purple glow, but for a cold hand holding hers, pale blue arms wrapped around her. A whiff of lavender and smoke.

She felt lonely, sitting alone in her room and staring at her screens. Their hum couldn‘t bring her peace anymore. 

She hated it. She hated it so much that in weak moments, she almost wished Widow would never come back from the laboratory, she would simply stay gone and Sombra could forget her, could go back to how she was supposed to be. 

But usually, she only thought about how she wanted her back. She hadn‘t realized how much time she‘d been spending with Widow recently until suddenly, she was back to working alone, with no one sitting next to her with her head on her shoulder, perfectly content just watching her in silence for hours. One day, she was standing in front of the mirror doing her make-up, and when she picked up her eyeliner, she realized that she hadn‘t done it herself in months because Widow‘s hand was so much steadier than hers that she could make a perfect wing in one flick. In the mornings Sombra woke up and found her hands grasping at thin air, searching for something that wasn‘t there. 

She‘d squeeze her eyes shut angrily against the tears welling up in them. There was nothing to cry about. It wasn‘t as though Widow was gone forever, and even if that had been the case, with the way Sombra was behaving, it might have been for the better. She wasn‘t a lovesick teenager, for god‘s sake. She was supposed to be long past the stage of her life where she was seriously stricken by being separated from someone for a week or two. 

But it wasn‘t just the separation. It was the fear, too. The fear that whatever would come out of that laboratory wouldn‘t be Widow anymore. Not _her_ Widow. 

No, that was wrong. Widow wasn‘t _hers_ , in any sense of the word, nor was she supposed to be, and if she never found out that Sombra so much as thought about it, it was probably for the best. 

But none of that changed the way Sombra‘s fingertips itched with desire to burn down the walls of the headquarters every time she so much as thought about what Widowmaker was most likely enduring somewhere beneath them. 

This wasn‘t her. She was a shadow, it was right there in her name, and shadows didn‘t usually make a habit of wreaking havoc around them. So she held still, but holding still hurt. 

Four days into the reconditioning procedure, she couldn‘t take it anymore.

Getting through the security system she had set up herself was easy. None of the scanners or cameras would register her presence, and her thermoptic cloaking hid her from the guards patrolling the lower levels. The main door to Moira‘s laboratory was hers with a few flicks of her fingers, soundlessly sliding open to let her through. 

The laboratory was almost entirely shrouded in darkness, but the green glow coming from inside the water tanks was enough to let Sombra navigate the room, even without her ocular implants that allowed her dark vision. The floor was metal, and she knew her steps would have reverberated audibly if not for the soles of her tights that absorbed sound. There were cables everywhere, making it difficult to walk without stepping on or tripping over them. Most of them were connected to the tanks, supplying them with power, connecting them to the machines that monitored the subjects‘ vitals, or keeping the water fresh and adequately filled with sedative. It was eerily quiet, with nobody other than Sombra in the room; a silence only penetrated occasionally by the machines beeping softly. The tanks themselves emitted no sound, only that gentle, slightly pulsating green glow. 

Sombra had read all the records on this room and this part of the procedure, even seen pictures of it in the files she‘d accessed unbeknownst to Talon, but she‘d never actually been down here herself, and she was quickly realizing that nothing could have really prepared her for it. 

There were people floating in the tanks, or rather what must have been people once. Most of them looked humanoid, but horribly disfigured, limbs overgrown, too long, with unnaturally bulging muscles and visible black veins. Some had cancerous growths of some kind all over their bodies. They were all bald, and had their eyes closed, faces mostly covered by oxygen masks. 

Sombra didn‘t have much to do with Talon‘s other assets, but she‘d worked with them on missions a few times, and she‘d always found them a bit disturbing. Now she realized why they were always covered from head to toe and often had tubes and wires coming out of their helmets. These suits were probably the only thing keeping them alive outside of the tanks. 

Most of the assets were former Talon soldiers that had been mortally wounded in a fight, after which they had been transformed by Moira and her team of scientists. It technically said that that was what might happen in the contract they signed, but Sombra doubted most of them had read it far enough to get to that part. She wasn‘t sure if that made it any more ethical than what had been done to Widow. But she wasn‘t here for them anyway. 

The tank in the very center of the room was slightly larger than the others, and more cables led to it. Sombra approached it slowly, eyes locked onto the figure floating in the green liquid. From farther away, she was barely more than a silhouette, but when Sombra was only a few feet away from the tank, she could see the person in it clearly. 

Widow was naked save for the oxygen mask over her face; her hair was loose and floating around her like a dark veil. There were tubes sticking out of her in multiple places, some pulsing with liquid being pumped through them. Her eyes were closed, but Sombra could imagine them perfectly anyway. Their beautiful molten gold color. The way they‘d be focused entirely on her whenever they were in a room together. The way the left one would close slightly more than the other when Widow squinted. The little crease between them when she was deep in thought. The look in them when Sombra held her at night before they both fell asleep. 

Sombra wasn‘t sure whether she made the decision to sit down or whether her legs simply gave out underneath her, but either way she ended up on the floor, cross-legged, staring up at the dreaming woman in the tank. The illuminated water cast a green glow on her, face tilted up and eyes wide with a mixture of pain, fear and adoration. 

She‘d done her best to prepare herself for what would await her down here, but nothing she‘d done had sufficed. It was one thing to hear about the things Widow had to endure at the hands of Talon. It was something entirely different to actually be here, in front of the tank they put her in, see her vulnerable and helpless like this, entirely at the mercy of whoever was in charge of all the machines she was hooked up to. A part of Sombra almost felt bad for intruding like this, for seeking to watch her when she couldn‘t draw back from her gaze. But she couldn‘t tear her eyes away. 

The sight was so beautiful and so horrible at the same time. It made her sick to her stomach. 

She let out a shuddering exhale of air, letting her shoulders slump forward. Why had she come here? 

„ _Oh, arañita... qué me estás haciendo?_ “ 

Widow didn‘t respond. Of course she didn‘t. She didn‘t even know Sombra was there. At least Sombra didn‘t think she did. Maybe she had an idea of what was going on around her in there, even though the displays along the walls that monitored the doses of sedative that were being pumped into her veins told a different story. A part of Sombra desperately wanted to believe that Widow could hear her, a different part would have been all the happier if she couldn‘t. 

Sombra sat there for a long time, maybe hours, silently, almost entirely unmoving. Her eyes never left the tank and the woman floating inside it. Widow didn‘t move a muscle the entire time. Not even her fingers twitched. Not even any ever-so-slight movement of her eyes beneath her closed lids betrayed the fact that she was dreaming.

She tried to focus on her own breathing, let all thoughts disappear from her mind. No matter how much the idea scared her, there was something in her that would have liked nothing more right now than to be in one of those tanks, lulled to sleep by chemicals, mind a pleasant blank. At peace. Free of whatever it was that made her heart, her head, her _everything_ hurt so terribly. 

She raised one hand, almost dreamlike, and lightly touched her fingertips to the glass in front of her. A little perspiration gathered around her fingers. She had not noticed how cold the fluid inside the tanks had to be until now. 

„Widow...“ Her voice trailed off. She couldn‘t remember what she had wanted to say. A deep sigh made its way past her lips. 

„I‘m... I‘m sorry. I know you didn‘t want to come here, I should have... should have done something... tried harder to stop it. I wish I had tried harder to stop it.“

She didn‘t know why she was speaking English. It wasn‘t as though Widow could hear her. She didn‘t know why she was speaking at all, but the words suddenly welled up inside her and crawled up her throat, with nothing she could do to stop them. Truth be told, she didn‘t want to. She felt ready to explode with all the truths she‘d bottled up inside herself for months now. 

„I miss you“, she continued, hand still pressed against the glass. „I know it‘s stupid, it‘s only been a few days, but I miss you so much already. I‘ve had a thousand moments when I turned around and wanted to tell you something and then remembered you weren‘t there.“ 

A joyless smile curled at the edge of her mouth. „Pretty awful of me to be talking about myself right now, huh? But you probably know me well enough by now to know that‘s what I always do. I just talk and talk and talk and all it did was land us here. Did you know... did they tell you the reason they decided to put you under was because the hormone levels in your brain were way too high?“ 

Sombra had siphoned it off Moira‘s phone a few days ago. She wasn‘t really surprised, but it had still felt like a punch to the gut to read it herself. 

„I have an idea of why that is. I‘m sure you would, too, if you could... if you could fucking hear me.“ 

Something burned in her eyes. She wanted to close them, but couldn‘t bring herself to tear her gaze away from Widow inside the tank. 

„This is my fault. All of this. I know it is, and I‘m sorry, I‘m so sorry, but that won‘t be much use to you now, will it? It‘s way too late to stop this.“ 

She looked down at her hands, dark skin taking on a greenish hue in the eerie light, fingernails clipped short and painted with chipping pink nail polish. The implants beneath the skin were invisible now that she wasn‘t using them, but Sombra could see the violet lines glowing in front of her mind‘s eye. She knew of the power they held. 

„I could, you know“, she murmured. „I could cap every connection between you and these machines, I could get the tank to open and get you out. But there‘s a roughly 98% risk that that would kill you and... I think I‘ve caused you enough pain already.“

Sombra was silent for a few moments, sitting still as a statue, before finally, she let her head drop forwards, eyes leaving Widow for the first time since she had entered the laboratory. 

„You mean so much to me.“ It was barely more than a whisper. „I don‘t know what happened. We used to _hate_ each other and now I just want to be near you all the time. I can‘t concentrate on my work anymore. If you‘re there, you distract me no matter how quiet you are, and now that you‘re not there, I distract myself by thinking about how I miss you. Sometimes I can‘t even believe that you were right there the whole time - _you_ , not that whole _ice cold killer machine who never feels emotions_ thing you put on for everyone else. Three years and I never even noticed...“

She raised her head again, looking back up at Widow. She hadn‘t moved. Of course she hadn‘t. 

„You‘re nothing like anyone I know, araña. You‘re so many things Talon knows nothing of, and some I don‘t think even you know of. Even after everything they put you through... you know everyone else in this place sees me as a necessary evil. Almost all of them hated me from the moment I set foot in here for the first time, and I‘m used to that, I‘m... I‘m okay with it. But you?“ 

Sombra let out a short laugh. „God knows you have enough issues to last you a lifetime, and no one‘s given a shit about you for years. But then when I freak out, you talk me down and make sure I don‘t hurt myself. When I wake you up in the middle of the night, you never call me a burden or a fuck up. You went out to take a walk with me at one in the morning because I asked you to. You listen to me ramble even when you have no idea what I‘m talking about. You don‘t treat me like I‘m a child or like I‘m stupid or a liability. And... I really don‘t think I deserve any of that, but, _mi cielo_ , I wouldn‘t want to trade it for anything.

There‘s so many things about you that I adore. I love the way you like to sit next to me while I‘m working with your head on my shoulder. I love the way you always hesitate for a second before you touch me, like you‘re afraid you‘ll break something if you‘re not careful. I love the way you play with your hair and chew on your bottom lip when you‘re nervous.“ The thought made a small smile appear on Sombra‘s face. „I never thought I‘d ever look at you and think you‘re being cute, but I do now. All the time.“ 

Which was precisely the problem. The smile vanished. She buried her face in her hands for a moment, trying to get her thoughts back in order. 

„It‘s scary, _araña_ “, she whispered finally. „It‘s scary as shit. Just saying it - or thinking it - feels weird, and wrong, but also so _right_ at the same time and I... I don‘t know what to do anymore. Sometimes I hate it so much how much I... how much I want you. Seeing you down here, seeing what they do to you, it hurts. It has nothing to do with me, but it hurts, and I wish I could do something about it, but that... that‘s the issue.“

She lightly trailed her fingers over the glass, trying to imagine what Widow‘s skin would feel like to her touch. How cold it was. How soft. How achingly familiar.

„All this makes me want to take you away from Talon. Find someone who can fix what they did to your body. Hide out with you somewhere for however long we‘d have to. And that thought should be disgusting to me, but it isn‘t. I don‘t hate it. There‘s a part of me that craves it. And that‘s.. that‘s wrong. That‘s not me. Not who I‘m supposed to be.“

She tilted her head forward, forehead coming to rest against the cool glass. The green liquid swirled in front of her eyes, but she barely took note of it. 

„Do you remember the Conspiracy I told you about? The red eye? In ten years, I‘ve never admitted to anyone that it exists. Not even under torture. But you didn‘t even have to ask. I couldn‘t believe what I was doing even while it was still happening. The Conspiracy is my life, Widow. If I ever find them, and take them down, I have no idea what I‘m supposed to do after. There‘s nothing beyond that point. There has been nothing for ten years. Except now there is. It‘s you.“

Sombra felt tears well up in her eyes. She didn‘t have the strength left to stop them. „I love you, _araña_. I didn‘t think I‘d ever say it out loud, but it‘s true. I love you so fucking much and it scares me. I don‘t know what do to. This isn‘t... I didn‘t plan for this. I don‘t know how to do this. I should have left here ten times already, but I couldn‘t leave you behind. I just want to help you. I want to make sure you never have to go through this again, and that‘s the worst part. I can‘t be that person, _mi cielo_ , I can‘t. I can‘t be what you need. I can‘t even be what I need myself to be.“

The tears were running down her cheeks now, hot and tasting like salt on her lips, her shoulders shaking. „I don‘t want to want to save you. I wish so much that I didn‘t care, but I do. And I don‘t think I‘d be strong enough to change it. Even if I could.“ 

The laboratory remained quiet, Sombra‘s muffled sobs the only noise in the pitch black and pulsating green. Widow floated in her tank, dreaming, and Sombra could only imagine how she‘d take her face in her hands and kiss her tears away, if not for the glass between them.

The tank‘s walls were thin and translucent, but right now, they felt like an immeasurable distance. 

[](https://www.directupload.net)

\---------------

The reconditioning procedure was completed six days later. One of Sombra‘s programs alerted her long before anyone could have come to tell her. She stopped typing out the sequence of numbers she was working on in the middle of a half-finished formula, pushed her chair back so hard it almost tipped over, and rushed out of her room and down to the lower levels. The doors and security gave way to her easily, and none of the guards positioned outside of Widow‘s recovery room dared to stop her when they saw the look on her face. 

When she stepped through the door, the room was only dimly lit, and furnished just as sparsely, with only a single hospital bed, an IV stand next to it, an ECG and several more machines monitoring Widow‘s vitals. Widow was laying on her side, the arm with the infusion in it hanging slightly over the side of the bed, still slightly damp hair spread out over the plain white bedsheets. Sombra thought she was asleep at first, but when she slowly approached the bed, she realized that Widow‘s eyes were wide open, glinting slightly in the dim yellowish light from above. 

„ _Araña?_ “

Her eyes flickered over to Sombra. It seemed to take her a moment to process what she was seeing, but then something in her expression changed, facial muscles twitching ever-so-slightly, and she shifted on the mattress, beginning to push herself up. Sombra quickly stopped her. 

„No, no, lie back down, you need to rest. I‘m... I‘m right here, okay?“ She looked for a chair or something else to sit down on, but there was nothing, so she just carefully lowered herself onto the edge of the bed. 

„How are you feeling?“, she asked softly, reaching out and brushing a strand of black hair from Widow‘s face. Widow didn‘t reply. Weakly, she raised her arms, holding them out, one hand grasping lightly at Sombra‘s shoulder. Sombra understood. Without another word, she kicked off her shoes and laid down beside Widow, crawling under the thin blanket with her. Widow wrapped her arms around her and pulled her in close, burying her face in her neck. There was something desperate in it, something fearful, even though Widow remained entirely silent. For a moment, worry about that fact brushed Sombra‘s mind, but she thought better of it and simply focused on the feeling of Widow in her arms, the feeling that she‘d missed so bad for such a short time that had still felt much too long. There was a trace of antiseptic in her familiar smell, drowning out the lavender. They‘d have to change that as soon as Widow was discharged, Sombra thought absentmindedly. Her mind was almost fogged over with relief and happiness at having Widow back, no matter how that realization made her insides churn. For once, she didn‘t want to think about the repercussions of what she was doing right now. She just wanted to lie here with Widow forever, block out the world around them by closing her eyes and burying her nose in her hair, feeling nothing but the familiar coolness of the woman‘s hands holding her close. This was the only thing she wanted. 

Threading her hands through Widow‘s hair, Sombra noticed that a portion of it had been shaved off on the left side of her head. When she lightly traced her fingers over the spot, she noticed a fresh scar, thick and angry. Everything inside her convulsed with anger. They‘d cut Widow open again. Probably something about the chip in her brain. She‘d have to check Moira‘s medical records later. She hoped to God nothing the doctor did would be enough to take this part of Widow from her. The part Talon had tried to eradicate. The part Sombra loved more than anything in the world. 

„ _Chérie_...“ 

She almost didn‘t catch it, muffled against the side of her neck. Widow‘s voice was hoarse, fragile, barely above a whisper.

„Yeah?“ Sombra pressed a kiss to the top of her head, one hand rubbing soothing circles on Widow‘s shoulder. She‘d prepared herself for her to remain nonverbal for much longer than this. It was strange, but she welcomed it. Every little bit of proof that Moira had, once again, failed at breaking Widow took a bit of weight off of Sombra‘s chest.

„I want to leave.“ 

Sombra‘s brows drew together. „Leave?“

She felt Widow nod weakly. „I can‘t... this place... _s‘il te plaît, je veux partir d‘ici, je n‘en peux plus._ “ 

She‘d slipped into French again, as she did so often when she was distraught or scared. Sombra had an idea of what she had said, voice breaking, barely loud enough to understand without her aural implants. 

„Okay.“ She stroked Widow‘s hair, cradling her head against her shoulder. „Okay. I‘ll... I‘ll think of something. I‘ve got some dirt on Ogundimu I dug up a while back... didn‘t think I‘d need it, but I‘m sure I can use it to make him give us a few weeks off... for you to recover properly, of course, I can make him believe me. It‘ll be okay. It‘ll be okay.“ 

She hoped she sounded more convincing than she felt. But maybe Widow was right. Maybe some time away from base, without doctor‘s appointments or missions, was exactly what she needed. Maybe it was what Sombra needed, too. 

Maybe this would fix everything. 

Sombra knew it wouldn‘t, but just for now, she wanted to believe it, and Widow needed to believe it. 

She had always been too good at lying. What harm could one more time do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations:
> 
> oh arañita, que me estas haciendo? - oh little spider, what have you done to me? 
> 
> mi cielo - literally "my heaven", basically just a really affectionate nickname
> 
> s'il te plaît, je veux partir d'ici, je n'en peux plus - please, i want to leave, i can't take this anymore
> 
> the artist featured in this chapter is @valkyrieofberk on tumblr and twitter! thank you so much, i really appreciate you working so hard to finish this in time!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for heavily implied sexual content and a small mental breakdown... what a combination lol

Akande wasn‘t happy with Sombra‘s plans to take Widowmaker away from base, especially not so soon after her reconditioning. He worried about her condition becoming critical if she was away from Moira‘s maintenance for too long, but Sombra pulled up loads upon loads of the geneticist‘s data on Widow on several hard light screens and babbled medical jargon that she had looked up and didn‘t understand herself, until Akande pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation and told her to do what she wanted, as long as she brought his asset back in good condition. Sombra gave him a brilliant smile, closed her screens and didn‘t say out loud that she suspected she‘d bring his „asset“ back in better mental condition than she‘d been in since her kidnapping. 

Widow had been very quiet since she‘d been discharged from Moira‘s care, even more so than usual, though she did speak, and didn‘t refuse food either, which was a good sign. Sombra was worried about her. The fear of something having changed her irreversibly, even more than she had already been changed, hung over her all the time, like a bad stench. Every time she reached out to touch Widow, she held her breath, half expecting her to flinch away from her. It had never happened, and that was the one comfort she had. Widow almost seemed to crave her closeness more than usual, as if she had missed it just as much as Sombra while they had been separated, even though she had been unconscious for most of that time. 

When Sombra told her that were leaving in two days, her eyes lit up a little for the first time since being discharged, and in that moment, Sombra knew she had done the right thing, even though she was pretty sure Ogundimu was even more unhappy with her now and would be watching her activities more closely than usual. 

The place she got for her and Widow was a comparatively small house near Tulum. Sombra had been there a few times before and knew the area, and the good part of this particular house was that it technically belonged to a rich businessman who also owned a fairly large portion of land around it. That meant that nobody else was allowed to enter the property, which included a small, almost hidden beach. 

A gorgeous landscape, peace and no other people anywhere near - it seemed perfect for Sombra‘s purposes. She had played with the idea of going somewhere in France instead, but Widow had responded to that suggestion with something vague about not wanting to „linger on the past.“ So Mexico it was. If Sombra was being honest, she was more comfortable that way, not just because it was her home country, but also because it was much farther away from Venice. She knew physical distance didn‘t matter much to Talon, they had reach all over the world, but the comfort was there. 

She spent a good portion of the days until their departure updating the property‘s security system, making sure nobody would get in or out without her knowing immediately. So much paranoia was probably unnecessary, the only people in the area were harmless locals and nosier, but equally harmless tourists. But one couldn‘t be careful enough. Sombra didn‘t need Akande to be proven right in the regard that she wasn‘t equipped to ensure Widow‘s safety. And the idea of Widow getting hurt because Sombra hadn‘t taken all necessary measures... 

She didn‘t even want to think about it. 

On the day they were leaving, Talon lent them one of its dropships - fast, discrete, and, Sombra guessed, full of surveillance technology that wouldn‘t do a thing once she got her hands on it. She politely listened to Akande once more lecturing her about being careful and making sure nothing, absolutely _nothing_ , would happen to worsen Widow‘s condition, then she picked up her bags and carried them into the dropship without so much as saying goodbye. Widow was already waiting for her inside. Sombra activated the autopilot with the pre-programmed coordinates, then squeezed herself next to Widow into a single seat with gel-filled cushions, laid her head down on her shoulder and took her hand without asking. Widow didn‘t draw it back. 

With every mile they put behind them, Sombra felt like breathing got a little bit easier. At least for now, Talon couldn‘t touch them, not with all the dropship‘s machines sparking purple, none of the bugs and cameras working. Sombra didn‘t doubt that Akande would be angry with her once he found out that she‘d messed with the ship, but right now, she couldn‘t have cared less. The ties that bound her to his organization were already growing thin, reduced to a few bare threads that she could have snapped at any point. 

There were exactly two reasons she hadn‘t left Talon already: 

The first was the fact that if she did, she would be in an extremely vulnerable position, not only without Talon‘s protection, but also probably being actively pursued by them while simultaneously having to deal with the other enemies she‘d racked up over the years.

The second was Widow. That was it. 

Maybe she could have dealt with being the most wanted woman in the world, but she was beyond the point where she could stand leaving Widow behind without causing herself more pain than she could handle. She was prepared to sacrifice a little bit of freedom if it meant she would never have to miss the slow rise and fall of Widow‘s chest under her palm as they held each other. 

The dropship‘s flight speed was far above that of commercial planes, and they reached their destination around four hours later without any notable disturbances on the way. Sombra never left the seat she was cuddled up on with Widow, although at some point, she‘d shifted until she was sitting on the sniper‘s lap instead. Widow had wrapped her arms around Sombra‘s midsection and rested her chin on her shoulder and Sombra had never been more comfortable in her entire life. She almost regretted having to get up when the dropship landed, but she reminded herself that they‘d have plenty of time to cuddle however much they wanted for two whole weeks. They wouldn‘t have to hide anything here. There was no one who could catch them, no one who would take Widow away from Sombra. 

The dropship had landed on a small clearing between some high grown shrubs, shielding it from view even without its cloaking. The house was visible when Sombra peeked out from between the bushes, maybe three hundred meters away, a small white two story villa with a flat red brick roof and a spacious front porch surrounded by low palm trees. There was already sand beneath Sombra‘s feet as they approached the house, and behind it, there were a hundred meters or so of pure white before the bright turquoise waves, crowned with sprinkling sea foam, began gently rolling over it. The beach was fairly narrow, surrounded by cliffs of stone on each side, as was the entirety of the property. Had they not landed directly in the small valley, they would have had to climb down the side of the cliff. It added to the isolation that made it so alluring. 

Sombra breathed in the salty air and let the wind sweep through her hair, and even though she still felt exhausted, her steps were a thousand times lighter than before as she walked across the front porch, fumbling to get the key card out of her pocket with one hand because her other hand was busy holding Widow‘s and she didn‘t want to let go. Eventually, she managed to do it, unlocked the door and opened it dramatically for Widow, bowing before her as she let her inside and drawing a rare genuine smile from the sniper‘s lips before following her into the living room.

„Here we are“, she said, dumping her bags on the floor and taking a look around, „our humble home for the next two weeks.“ 

Widow was inspecting the real leather covering on one of the sofas. „I wouldn‘t exactly call this humble.“

„Oh?“ Sombra smirked. „Are you complaining, Miss _My-Family-Owns-A-Castle-In-France?_ “ 

„I wouldn‘t dream of it.“ Widow stepped closer to Sombra and, after a moment‘s hesitation, pulled her to her in a tight hug. Sombra was startled, but gladly wrapped her arms around Widow in return, breathing in her familiar scent. The lavender was back, no trace of the antiseptic remaining. It was more comforting than any physical distance between them and the headquarters ever could have been. 

„Thank you, _chérie_ “, Widow told her quietly. Sombra just shook her head. 

„Don‘t thank me, babe.“ The nickname slipped out before she could stop it, and her eyes widened when she realized her error, but Widow didn‘t move, didn‘t push her away or stiffen up. She just kept lightly stroking Sombra‘s back, and gradually, Sombra allowed herself to relax again.

„I mean... I‘m just doing what Talon should have done for you long ago.“

Widow drew back a little, and Sombra was already opening her mouth to ask if everything was okay when she raised a hand and delicately put a finger to Sombra‘s lips, very effectively shutting her up. Sombra was pretty sure her heart stopped for a moment. Widow‘s skin felt cold against her lips, and for a split second, she couldn‘t think about anything else than how badly she wanted to kiss and caress every inch of it. 

„I will not have you downplaying the lengths you‘ve gone to for me“, Widow murmured, „I know how much effort you put into all this, even though you are gaining nothing from it.“

„That‘s not true. I get to be with you.“ 

„You were with me when we were back in Venice.“ 

„But back in Venice, we had to be careful all the time. _Araña_ , I couldn‘t even touch you in public because of the risk that they‘d take it as me compromising you. There‘s none of that here. I know it‘s not a lot of time, but while we‘re here, we won‘t have to hide anything.“ 

It came out more impassioned than she had intended it to be, and she felt her cheeks heat up a little, averting her eyes in embarrassment, but Widow leaned in and gave her a kiss on the forehead and her cold lips felt like a goddamn blessing more than anything else, and when Sombra looked back up at her, there was the barest hint of a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth.

She didn‘t say anything, but she didn‘t need to. In that moment, there was nothing she could have said to make Sombra happier.

\-------------

They spent the next hour or two getting settled in, Sombra setting up what technical equipment she‘d brought with her (though it was comparatively little, she wasn‘t planning on working much). There were two bedrooms in the house, and there was a brief awkward moment of Sombra stammering that she could sleep in the spare one if Widow wanted her to, Widow just staring at her, and then shaking her head.

It wasn‘t really surprising, Sombra told herself, they‘d been sleeping in the same bed almost every night for weeks. Widow hadn‘t spent a night in her own room since she‘d come back from reconditioning, and even before that, it had been growing rarer and rarer, and Sombra couldn‘t bring herself to tell her no, because even though she knew she should have, she couldn‘t deny that she, too, slept more soundly when Widow was lying next to her, that she felt empty and lonely when she woke up without her in the morning. And she couldn‘t deny now that she was incredibly relieved that Widow wanted to keep their arrangement up even away from base. 

So she sat cross-legged on the huge double bed with its incredibly soft sheets and watched Widow put her clothes into the spacious closet, occasionally making fun of her for bringing so many when they wouldn‘t leave the property at any point during the next two weeks and earning withering glances from Widow every time. But when she was finished, she grabbed Sombra‘s hand and pulled her up from the bed and said: „Let‘s go outside.“ And Sombra knew she wasn‘t really angry at her. 

She let Widow lead her outside across the patio and beyond that to the small beach. Widow had a look of awe in her eyes as they approached the gently rolling waves, not quite the expression of someone who hadn‘t seen the ocean in a while, but that of someone who had never seen it in their entire life, even though Sombra doubted that was the case. Widow stopped walking when she stood ankle deep in the water, loose hair fluttering lightly in the breeze. Sombra remained close by her side, hands still clasped together. The sun was just starting to set, painting the sky with an explosion of colors that was only possible by the seaside, not unlike the sunset in Venice, and yet completely different. More peaceful, somehow.

They stayed there for a long time, maybe half an hour, maybe longer. Sombra didn‘t really care. Widow‘s skin was still chilled, but only barely, warmed by the sun, her hair tickled Sombra‘s nose a little, and she let Sombra rest her head on her shoulder while they watched the sun go down. It was perfect. Almost too perfect. But Sombra pushed the lingering sense of danger in her gut to the side. She didn‘t want it. She didn‘t want to be afraid anymore. She just wanted to stay like this forever. Was that really too much to ask? Just this one scrap of happiness, this tiny little flame lighting up the darkness she‘d hidden herself in for over a decade. Was that really more than she deserved?

[ ](https://www.directupload.net)

She was almost glad when the night finally started to properly settle, the air growing a bit chilly, the breeze picking up. It gave her an excuse to tear herself away from her own thoughts and instead squeeze Widow‘s hand and quietly suggest they go inside and make something to eat. Widow blinked for a moment, like she didn‘t quite remember who Sombra was or how she had gotten here, but then her eyes cleared up, and she nodded.

As it turned out, Widow was quite the adept cook, much more so than Sombra, who had been living on takeout almost exclusively for two decades. Sombra had had some groceries and basic cooking supplies delivered to the house that had arrived via a drone earlier today, figuring that while they had the chance, they should make sure Widow got to eat some proper food instead of the injections she received at Talon, and that Sombra couldn‘t make Widow live on her own sparse diet for two weeks. Sombra had carefully checked her medical records- she was perfectly capable of eating and digesting normal food, Moira just deemed it easier and less risky to simply inject her with everything she needed to live directly. So Sombra had prepared herself for having to cook more than she had in twenty years. But it looked like she was the one who would be getting spoiled in that regard. She wasn‘t sure what it was that Widow made, something French and fancy sounding that Sombra definitely had never eaten before, but it already smelled heavenly while Sombra was standing next to Widow in the kitchen cutting vegetables, the only task Widow had trusted her with, and it lived up to the expectations when it was done and Sombra took her first bite. Widow smirked from across the table at the look on her face. 

„A little better than Chinese takeout every day, hm, _chérie?_ “ 

Sombra vigorously shook her head. „No- no, _nothing_ is better than Chinese takeout, something like that could only come from someone who‘s never had any because they were too fancy growing up-“ 

Widow snorted. „The face you made just then says something different.“

„I‘m just trying not to be too harsh on your tender little rich girl heart“, Sombra lied. Widow was right, this was much better than anything she‘d eaten in years. She just didn‘t want to admit it. But she was fairly sure Widow could see the truth on her face anyway, judging by the smug smile on the assassin‘s lips. 

It occurred to Sombra that she‘d seen Widow smile more in this one afternoon than in almost all the time she‘d known her, and it made her heart ache in her chest. A part of her wished the Council could see her like this, see how much happier she was, but she knew that the Council didn‘t care about whether or not Widow was happy. There was a good chance that they‘d consider smiling a failure of her programming more than anything. 

Sombra felt the anger bubble back up inside her at the thought, but she pushed it back down. This, all of this, was for Widow. She wouldn‘t ruin it by getting in a bad mood over things she couldn‘t do anything about. 

When they both had cleaned their plates, and respectively were on their second glass of wine of the evening, Sombra had mostly forgotten about her anger, belly full and just the slightest bit lightheaded from the wine. She scooted her chair a little closer to Widow.

„Okay, but for real, _araña_ , thanks. That was really good. I had no idea you could cook.“ 

Widow leaned on the table with one elbow, posture utterly relaxed, more so than Sombra had ever seen her. „Why?“, she asked, a teasing undertone in her voice. „Did you think I was too... what do you call it... _fancy_ to be able to cook for myself?“

„Hey, don‘t act like it‘s such a far-fetched thought! Are you telling me your family never had a personal cook?“ 

Widow made a face and didn‘t reply. 

„Ha! I knew it!“ 

„So? You liked my food, didn‘t you?“ 

Sombra reached for her hand without thinking about it, lacing their fingers together. „Of course I did, _chula._ Thought you knew that already.“ 

Widow‘s smile reappeared. „It‘s always good to be sure.“ 

Sombra wiggled the fingers on her free hand a little. „I know. Being sure about stuff is what I do. Now, you wanna do the dishes with me or are you too fancy for that too?“ 

Widow stood up from her chair and pulled Sombra up with her. „You are insufferable sometimes“, she complained, but she was still smiling. Sombra cackled, following her back into the kitchen.

„You are so full of shit, _araña._ “ 

„Am I?“ 

„You can‘t fool me. You know you love me.“ 

The words just came out without Sombra‘s control, and she was just buzzed enough not to care, not when she saw Widow‘s smile soften, though her eyes didn‘t turn towards her as she placed her empty plate in the sink and turned the water on. 

„Hm. If you say so, I suppose it must be true.“ 

Sombra‘s heart fluttered for an instant, even though she knew perfectly well that Widow didn‘t mean it the way that some foolish part of her hoped. She stacked her plate on top of Widow‘s and reached over her to grab the dirty pan off the stove, not daring to look at the other woman and hoping she couldn‘t tell how Sombra‘s cheeks had heated up. They did the rest of the dishes next to each other in silence, and for some reason, it bothered Sombra, although Widow seemed perfectly content. She even hummed a little tune to herself, something Sombra had never witnessed her doing before. 

„Hey, Widow?“, she asked eventually. Widow turned the running water off and cast her a glance. 

„Hm?“ 

„Do you... do you like it here?“ 

Widow blinked a few times, seemingly caught off guard by the question. „I... mostly I‘m glad I‘m not... there anymore.“ She stared down at her hands. „But... yes. I suppose I do like it here. It‘s beautiful, and quiet, and I like the ocean.“

Sombra took a step closer to Widow and leaned against her side. „I‘m glad you like it. You deserve it after all the shit that went down.“ 

Widow wrapped an arm around her waist and turned them both around so they were facing the wall of the house that was mostly made of glass, looking out across the ocean. It was dark by now, but the lack of light pollution left the night sky glittering over and over with millions of stars, casting a silvery light across the beach and the waves along with the moon. It was a breathtaking view, but nowhere near as much as Widow when her thumb absentmindedly rubbed affectionate circles over the skin at Sombra‘s hip. 

„ _Merci_ “, Sombra heard her murmur, and she lightly swatted her arm. 

„We‘ve been over this. You don‘t need to thank me.“ 

„I can‘t repay you any other way.“ 

Sombra momentarily stepped out of her embrace to face her, meeting her shimmering golden eyes. „Widow- there‘s nothing to repay me for. This isn‘t bothering me.“ 

„I don‘t feel like I‘m worth it.“ She sounded so heartbreakingly genuine. Sombra reached out and tucked a stray strand of black hair behind her ear. 

„Oh, _cariño_. You‘re worth a thousand times this much.“ 

For several moments, they remained exactly like that, unmoving, eyes locked onto each other. Sombra could have sworn the hairs on her arms stood on end with how the air between them seemed to almost crackle with _something_ , something she didn‘t have words for. 

Widow‘s gaze flickered downwards ever-so-slightly for a split second, and Sombra was already moving to draw back. Then, suddenly, a hand touched her cheek, and a heartbeat later, a pair of ice cold lips pressed against her own. 

Sombra promptly forgot what she had been thinking about. There was that smell of lavender and smoke in her nose, closer than ever, a barely audible sigh against her mouth as Widow‘s hand found its way to the small of her back and pulled her closer, a hint of the red wine they‘d been drinking earlier on Widow‘s tongue when she swept it over Sombra‘s bottom lip, and Sombra melted against her without even a trace of resistance. Her hands came up to tangle in Widow‘s hair, pulling her head further down towards her and eliciting a sound from the woman that Sombra couldn‘t name, but that made her shudder harshly nonetheless, heat spreading all throughout her body no matter how cold Widow‘s touch was. In the back of her mind, her thoughts were racing, trying to make sense of the situation, or even screaming at her to push Widow away, call this whole thing off, do the only sensible thing. 

But she didn‘t want to. She wanted Widow closer, wanted her hands on her body, her skin pressed against her own. She wanted to hear the sigh when Sombra lightly bit down on her bottom lip and darted her tongue into her mouth, over and over and over again. She wanted Widow‘s taste, her smell, the way she held her, hands fisted in her shirt almost desperately, and yet, something tender in it, like she was afraid to hurt Sombra. She was so sick of thinking. She just wanted to _feel_. 

Gentle as the kiss had initially been, it quickly evolved into something wholly different, a desperate, open-mouthed thing, hands pulling at each other‘s hair and clothes, trying to get each other as close as possible. Widow strayed from Sombra‘s mouth to nip at her throat, and Sombra groaned through her teeth, hands tangled in Widow‘s hair. When had she turned around so her back was pressed against the kitchen counter? She couldn‘t remember, and she didn‘t care. 

The rational part of her brain only came somewhat back to life when she felt Widow starting to pull at the seam of her shirt, trying to push it up, and although she wanted her to keep going so, so badly, the alarm bells screeching somewhere in the back of her mind made her break the kiss, gasping for air. It took her several seconds to open her eyes, but when she did, the hurt and confused look on Widow‘s face almost broke her heart. 

„Widow...“, she managed to get out, „what are we doing?“ 

„I was under the impression you were aware.“ Widow‘s lips were kiss-swollen and her eyes shone even brighter than usually, and Sombra wanted nothing more than to have that mouth pressed against hers again, but she forced herself to keep talking. 

„Is this... is this you trying to... use me to make yourself feel something or some shit like that? Because if it is, I- I don‘t know if I can-“ 

„ _Chérie_ “, Widow breathed, voice husky, „if you didn‘t want me to _feel_ , you are a little late, I‘m afraid.“ 

The implications of her words only half registered with Sombra. She could only tip her head back and laugh hoarsely, a laugh which then promptly morphed into a moan when Widow took the opportunity to press frantic kisses to her exposed throat. 

„If you want me to stop“, she whispered against Sombra‘s skin, „I will, but _I_...I...“ 

She didn‘t seem to find the words she was looking for. 

_Tell her to stop_ , Sombra told herself. _Tell her to stop and forget this ever happened_. But she knew perfectly well that was an impossibility. And she had dreamed about this so many times. A part of her still hadn‘t fully realized that it was really happening. She couldn‘t push Widow away. She couldn‘t. 

„No“, she ground out, „don‘t you dare stop.“ 

She yanked Widow‘s head back up to hears, hands still gripping her hair tightly, and their mouths crashed together again. The edge of the counter pressed into Sombra‘s back painfully, and she knew there would be a bruise tomorrow, but she couldn‘t have cared less in this moment. 

Their bodies strained against one another, pushing and pulling and twisting to the point where Sombra wasn‘t sure anymore where one began and the other ended, and it was exactly what she wanted. She hitched a leg up and wrapped it around Widow‘s hips, almost like a warning - _don‘t you stop, don‘t even think about going anywhere_. But the way Widow softly whimpered into her mouth didn‘t sound like she was planning on leaving anytime soon. 

Sombra‘s head was spinning, mind struggling to catch up with what was happening. She was dimly aware that she would be angry at herself later, would feel guilty and afraid, but now, she just felt Widow breaking their kiss just long enough to yank her t-shirt over her head, cold fingers tracing along the implants in her back and sending what almost felt like small electric shocks through her. Widow mouthed at Sombra‘s neck, teeth and lips and tongue, and Sombra knew there would be marks in the morning, but the thought only sent a flash of heat through her as Widow‘s hands slid down her sides and to the backs of her thighs. The next instant, she was being lifted into the air, and a startled yelp escaped her, even as she reflexively wrapped her legs around Widow‘s waist and her arms around her neck. 

„Bedroom“, Widow growled against Sombra‘s mouth. She nodded frantically, unable to string the words together, but it seemed to be enough. Widow crossed the kitchen in no more than a few long strides, even with Sombra in her arms, and kicked the door to the adjacent bedroom open. It was dark except for the moon sending a few scattered beams of light through the windows, but neither of them cared enough to stop and turn the light switch. Sombra half expected Widow to throw her onto the bed, and she certainly wouldn‘t have objected to that, but instead, she was was gently lowered onto the sheets, Widow immediately climbing atop her and capturing her mouth in another deep, hungry kiss. She pressed Sombra into the mattress, hands on her shoulders, as she broke away and sat up to take off her own shirt. The moonlight on her pale blue skin almost made her look unreal, golden eyes shining, slightly ruffled hair falling over her shoulders and pooling on the sheets around them. 

„ _Preciosa_ “, Sombra breathed out. Widow smiled and leaned back down so she was looming over Sombra, hair falling around them like a dark veil. She pressed a featherlight kiss to Sombra‘s lips, then another to her cheek, her jawline, and continued downwards until she until she eventually stopped just above the edge of Sombra‘s bra, peering up at her through dark lashes. 

„If you want me to stop“, she murmured, holding Sombra‘s gaze, „at any point, tell me, and I will. Immediately.“ 

„Yeah. Uh, same goes for me.“ Sombra could have slapped herself for sounding so awkward, but Widow didn‘t seem to mind. Apparently content with Sombra‘s answer, she slowly began moving down her body, leaving a trail of kisses in her wake, and Sombra felt her fingers starting to work at the button of her shorts, and she didn‘t think anymore for a long time after that. 

\-----------------

Sombra awoke hours later, when the sun was just barely beginning to rise outside, sending only a few tentative beams of light through the window. It took a moment for the memories of the previous night to catch up with her, and in that pleasant blank limbo between sleep and waking, she only knew the softness of the sheets on her bare skin, the warmth gathered underneath the blankets, the just slightly chilly arm wrapped around her waist and the legs intertwined with her own. For that brief moment, everything was perfect. 

Then Sombra abruptly realized that she was naked, and that so was the woman who was presently cuddled up to her in bed, and that there was a reason for the slight ache in her limbs and the soreness of her scalp. For an instant, panic rushed through her, and her eyes snapped open and she scrambled to sit up, wrenching herself free of Widow‘s arms. She felt her heart pounding in her ears, filled with unspeakable dread for a few moments. Then Widow stirred beside her, mumbled something half in English, half in French into her pillow, and Sombra forced herself to close her eyes, take deep breaths, in, out, in, out. 

„ _Chérie?_ “ Widow‘s hand blindly reached for Sombra, her face still buried in the pillow. Sombra heard a muffled yawn. 

A sigh escaped her lips. „Good morning, _araña._ “ Despite herself, she bent down and pressed a kiss to Widow‘s brow, entirely too enamored by the way it made the corner of her mouth quirk slightly. 

„Everything alright?“, Widow mumbled, or at least Sombra assumed that was what she meant, since she still hadn‘t moved from her spot, likely still half asleep. 

„Yeah“, Sombra replied, probably a bit too quickly, „I just... gotta go to the bathroom. I‘ll be back in a minute.“ 

Widow didn‘t answer, and Sombra assumed she‘d fallen back asleep. Doing her best not to disturb her again, she slipped out of bed, taking care to pull the covers back over Widow‘s curled up form. For just a moment, Sombra lingered, letting her gaze drift over her, the slow rise and fall of her ribcage, the tattoo stretching out over her back, the small scatterings of scar tissue all over her body; small reminders of what had been done to her that Sombra had kissed over and over last night, just to see what delightful sounds it would draw from that slender throat, that beautiful mouth that had felt so perfect pressed against hers. 

How could a memory feel so right and so wrong at the same time? 

Sombra looked away and started tiptoeing across the wooden floor over to the door, grabbing a big t-shirt out of her only partially unpacked suitcase and pulling it over her head as she went. She tried to be as quiet as possible, but as it turned out, walking soundlessly was a lot easier with her tights, and she really didn‘t feel like putting on her mission outfit right now. She‘d brought it only reluctantly, only for the worst of emergencies. If she got her way, it would remain folded at the bottom of her suitcase for the entirety of the next two weeks. 

The adjacent bathroom wasn‘t very large, but luxuriously furnished, with everything impeccably clean, a very spacious shower, and tasteful gold accents set in all the right spots. There was even underfloor heating, not that it had much use now in the summer.

Sombra closed the door behind herself and locked it. For a few seconds, she just stood there and focused on her own breathing, reminding herself that nothing she did now could change any of the decisions she had made last night, whether she wanted it to or not. Then she stepped in front of the sink and the large, flawlessly polished mirror above it. 

She was a mess, she realized that immediately when she lifted her head and gave her reflection a quick once-over. She was used to having a bedhead, but this morning, it seemed especially messy, probably curtesy of Widow holding it in a vise grip for a large part of the night. Her lips were still bruised, impossibly, going along with an impressive collection of hickeys decorating her neck, following a trail downwards that disappeared below the neckline of her shirt. When she lifted the hem up slightly, she discovered several more scattered over her hips and the insides of her thighs. She could spot a bite mark or two, and when she turned around to catch a glimpse at her back, there were red scratches still visible where her skin was exposed, especially right around her implant. Sombra shuddered at the memory of Widow digging her nails into the sensitive skin, sending static shocks through her body on top of everything else the assassin was doing.

Which had already been more than enough to drive Sombra crazy. As evident by the fact that she was still here and not already as far away from this house and from Widow as possible, and by the realization that these marks didn‘t even make her feel ashamed enough to keep her from wishing she was back in bed with Widow, cuddling up to her under the covers and gently kissing her good morning.

She still couldn‘t quite believe what had happened. She‘d dreamed about this for months, wondered what Widow‘s kiss, her touch might feel like, and had always pushed it back down, reminding herself that it was impossible and that it was probably better that way. And then all it had taken was one evening away from base, and now she was standing in the bathroom at daybreak, covered in marks Widow had left on her body, and the sight couldn‘t terrify her quite as much as it made her want to burst with happiness. 

Widow had kissed her last night like she‘d wanted to for an eternity, like she‘d denied herself countless times and finally couldn‘t hold it in any longer. Her touch had been fervent, desperate even, but it wasn‘t just that. Sombra didn‘t think anyone had ever held like that, with so much care in every motion, with an adoration in their eyes like she‘d seen in Widow‘s last night, the kind that she shouldn‘t even have been capable of feeling. But she‘d proved how real it was, over and over again, until her skin had warmed to almost normal human temperatures from being pressed to Sombra‘s, until Sombra had felt like she‘d be able to recount every detail of her body even in her sleep, every line, every curve, every scar. 

Had she really wanted it as much as Sombra had? Was she lying in bed right now, alone, trying to figure out whether any of this was real? 

The harsh light from overtop in the bathroom suddenly seemed unbearable. Sombra turned away, unlocked the door and slipped back into the bedroom, without trying to be quiet this time. Widow was lying on her side, facing away from Sombra. It seemed that she‘d gotten up briefly during Sombra‘s absence, seeing as how she was covered by one of those short dark silk robes of hers that had always made Sombra‘s breath hitch in her throat when she‘d seen her in one. She rolled over when Sombra climbed back into bed with her, reaching for her, pulling her to her. Her skin was cold again, but Sombra didn‘t mind. She curled into Widow‘s side, nestling her head in the crook of her neck, and allowed herself to relax.

They stayed like that for a very long time, neither of them speaking. Sombra listened to Widow‘s slow breathing, tracing invisible patterns on her sternum with her fingertips. Her pale blue skin was completely spotless, not a single bruise visible on it, a sharp contrast to Sombra herself. She knew Widow couldn‘t bruise because she didn‘t possess ordinary human blood, and that if she had, she would have looked no better than Sombra did right now, but a part of Sombra was still a little disappointed. She was sure the spots of blue and purple scattered on Widow‘s skin would have made for a lovely sight. 

Widow‘s fingers strayed from where they had been idly playing with Sombra‘s hair, lightly brushing the side of her neck. Sombra winced just slightly, and Widow drew back immediately.

„ _Desolée_ “, she murmured. „Does it hurt?“

„A bit.“ Sombra looked up to see Widow‘s brow furrowed slightly. 

„I‘m sorry. I shouldn‘t have-“ 

„ _Araña._ “ Sombra pushed herself up on one elbow, leaned in and gave Widow a soft kiss. „It‘s okay. I like them. The marks, I mean.“ 

„You do?“ 

Sombra nodded. A smile lit up Widow‘s face. „That‘s good to know. I happen to think they look stunning on you.“ 

She pulled Sombra down for another kiss, deeper this time, but still slow, unhurried, filled with the blissful knowledge that they had all the time in the world. Sombra shifted a bit until she was laying half atop Widow, chest pressed to chest. If she paid attention, she could feel her slow, steady heartbeat close to her own. 

After a while, she pulled away, resting her head on Widow‘s shoulder with an idle press of lips to the side of her neck. 

„You have no idea how long I‘ve wanted to do that for“, she mumbled against her skin.

„Was it worth it?“

Sombra chuckled. „What do you think?“ 

Widow didn‘t reply, and the room was filled with comfortable silence for another few minutes. Sombra was sure that she could have stayed just like this all day and been perfectly content. But something in the back of her mind kept nagging at her, and it wouldn‘t leave her alone. 

„Do you...“, she eventually began tentatively, not sure how to broach the subject. „Do you think we should talk? About this?“

„Do you want to talk?“, Widow asked, sounding very earnest and serious. Sombra sighed.

„I don‘t know. I guess we should talk about... some stuff. Like... whether this was a one time thing.“ She squirmed uncomfortably at just the thought.

„Not if I can help it“, Widow promptly replied, then immediately backpedalled: „That is... if you want it to be-“ 

Sombra shook her head vigorously. „ _Dios mio,_ no. No, I don‘t want it to be a one time thing. I just wanted to... you know. Make sure we were on the same page.“ 

„Yes.“ Widow sounded relieved. Sombra felt her arm wrap around her shoulders a little bit tighter. 

„And what about... what about Talon?“ Everything within Sombra recoiled at just the organization‘s mention, but she forced the words across her tongue. When she looked up, Widow looked just as unhappy as she felt. 

„What about them?“ 

„You know they won‘t like that we... this.“ 

„I know, but... I don‘t want to think about them. Or talk about them.“ She was silent for a few moments. „You said you wanted to go here so I could forget for a while. Can‘t we do that? Forget?“

She sounded almost pleading. Sombra knew it was wrong, but the thought of indulging her and just ignoring Talon‘s existence and the consequences for what was happening between them was too tempting. It was bad enough that she had to think about what this meant for her work, or worse, the entire identity she‘d built around being alone, which she had conveniently put off so far. She wanted so badly to just stay like this, indulging in everything she‘d longed for for months, pushing her thoughts and worries into the back of her mind to be dealt with later, and focusing on what was truly important - the woman in her arms. 

With a sigh, Sombra snuggled closer to Widow, taking her hand and lacing their fingers together. „Yeah. I guess we can. Just for a bit.“

„Just for a bit“, Widow agreed, and Sombra knew there was a big possibility that they‘d both regret it later, but right now, it just felt like a giant weight had been lifted off her chest. 

She felt a faint tug on her scalp, and moved to scramble further up Widow‘s body to let herself be pulled into a kiss. It was more fervent this time, and a trace of the rekindled hunger from last night quickly crept into it, until Widow rolled them over so Sombra was underneath her. Sombra broke away for air after a few more moments, grinning up at the other woman through several strands of purple hair that had fallen across her face. 

„So, how do you feel about breakfast?“ 

„In a moment“, Widow murmured, pressing kisses to her throat. Sombra closed her eyes and tipped her head a bit to the side to grant her better access, sighing when Widow lightly bit down on her pulse point. Her own hands went to untie the belt of Widow‘s robe. Breakfast could wait.

\-----------------

The next two weeks passed almost like in a blur, time passing incredibly slowly and far too quickly at the same time. The weather stayed as beautiful as on the first day, and they ended up spending large amounts of time outside on the property‘s small beach. Sombra nearly keened when Widow revealed that she had, in fact, brought a swimsuit, and only didn‘t rip it back off her immediately because Widow insisted that sand would get into areas where it decidedly didn‘t belong, all the while grinning triumphantly, and Sombra got the distinct impression that she had planned for this. But she looked too good with her hair half tied back, covered only by what were essentially two thin scraps of dark blue fabric, for Sombra to be irritated at the realization.

In the sun, Widow‘s skin warmed quickly, and Sombra found out that despite all evidence, she _could_ tan, although it was mostly her skin becoming a tad more purple and maybe a little darker. It took Sombra four days to convince her to come into the water with her, but when she did, it was more than worth the effort. Widow‘s endless hair floating around her made her look like some kind of siren, and it was also the main thing that helped Sombra keep track of her underwater, because as it turned out, her skin blended in with the environment almost effortlessly. She could also hold her breath for unfairly long amounts of time - once, she swam out of view and hid among a group of small coral reefs for almost ten minutes, enough to get Sombra to actually get worried, until she abruptly came up from underneath her and grabbed her by the ankles, pulling her under and nearly giving her a heart attack in the process. When they came back up, Sombra started throwing a long string of Spanish curses at her, still sputtering from the salt water she had accidentally swallowed, until Widow grabbed her face and kissed her and suddenly she‘d forgotten that she‘d been mad in the first place. 

It was surprising, really, how much mischief exactly like that Widow started getting up to once she was out of Talon‘s sight. Sombra had a bit of a reputation as a prankster around the headquarters, but here, it looked like the sniper was doing her best to catch up with years of being denied anything fun. She was becoming quite adept at mercilessly teasing Sombra, verbally as well as in the bedroom, but she always did it with a smile that was equal parts infuriating and endearing. And Sombra was well aware that none of it was ever mean spirited. Despite what Talon had tried to make her into, Widow was, at least with Sombra, an exceedingly gentle person, horribly aware of her own limitations and frustrated and saddened by them. In no way was she vicious, aggressive or particularly violent. Her voice kept its usual flat, soft tone that sometimes made it hard to tell what exactly she was trying to convey, but Sombra had become very good at reading her. Widow had always shown a certain disdain for herself and her environment, though in a quiet, subtle way, never speaking of it or directly acting on it; but here, there was something else in everything she did, especially in the way she spoke to or touched Sombra. She‘d seek her closeness casually, laying down in the sand outside next to her and pressing the length of her cool body up against Sombra, providing relief from the heat and a lovely shiver down her spine; she‘d wrap her arms around Sombra from behind and rest her chin on her shoulder, and Sombra would hear her softly inhale the same way she did to take in Widow‘s familiar scent of lavender and smoke. Always, the spider‘s hands lingered for a second longer than they had to. Always, there was something incredibly tender in her touch, how her fingers would only ghost over Sombra‘s skin for a moment as if asking permission, how she‘d be slow, careful in her caresses, attentive for every twitch of Sombra‘s muscles, every miniscule shift in her expression. Over time, Sombra found, Widow became intimately familiar with her body to the point where she‘d know exactly where to touch her to make her snuggle closer and almost purr like a cat, like the base of her skull, her shoulders, her wrists where the wires in her arms were closest to the surface.

She also learned the places that made Sombra shudder and sigh and turn to hungrily press their mouths together, like the implants along her spine and the side of her neck and the places where invisible ink beneath her skin traced the outlines of her bones. Of course, Widow mercilessly used this newfound knowledge to her advantage, though she always backed off the instant Sombra showed any kind of discomfort. But the majority of the time, Sombra was more than happy to let Widow‘s gentle, cold hands wander and her kisses move from her mouth down her throat and lower. She was good at that, good at making Sombra putty in her hands, good at making her surrender herself completely with nothing more than a few of those endlessly gentle touches, those hushed whispers close to her ear. 

But that wasn‘t the only thing she was good at. She was also good at waking Sombra up in the morning with featherlight kisses against the back of her neck, and she was good at lightly scratching the exact spot between Sombra‘s neural implants that always itched, and she was good at cradling Sombra‘s head in her lap on the couch and softly reading out loud to her, and she was good at making Sombra laugh - Widow, the woman whose personality had supposedly been surgically removed years ago, had an incredible sense of dry humor, just morbid enough to be exactly Sombra‘s type, reserved for moments when she seemed to know it would make Sombra topple over with laughter in a way she hadn‘t for years, not since she left Los Muertos, the only family she‘d had since the death of her parents. 

But now, when she was holding Widow close as they slow danced in the kitchen while the light over the sea was starting to fade, giggling at her own clumsiness when she stumbled over her own feet and Widow caught her every time, when Widow brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face and gave her a soft kiss, Sombra felt at home for the first time in eleven years. And with every day that passed, that brought them closer to having to leave this little piece of heaven behind, it made her heart feel heavier. 

She could tell it was affecting Widow too, although she, of course, was much less obvious about it. It was more like the way she held her at night seemed a tiny bit more desperate, like her kisses had a sense of ferocity in them that wasn‘t there before. Like she seemed more reluctant to let Sombra get out of bed in the morning. More often than not, Sombra indulged her, staying in her arms under the covers until noon or longer, relishing in the feeling of not having to go anywhere, not having anyone to listen to, and hating that it couldn‘t last. Her fear of what awaited them back at the base grew with each passing day. At night, between the single red eye that had haunted her dreams for the past eleven years, and the burning city from much longer ago, she saw flashes of Moira‘s mismatched face, of a tiny black cell, of a tank full of green liquid and a sleeping woman inside. Sometimes when she looked at Widow, she couldn‘t help but recall the images from her medical files, how she had looked cut open, covered in bruises almost as blue as her skin now, the look in her eyes, so empty. 

Widow‘s eyes weren‘t empty when she looked at Sombra now. They weren‘t empty when she sat up in the sand and spent minutes staring out on the sea. They weren‘t empty when she and Sombra dove down to the reef together and were surrounded by a plethora of beautiful, colorful fish moments later. 

Sombra had been in love when she‘d come here. But she‘d come to terms with the fact that it was pointless. Then Widow had kissed her that first evening and suddenly everything she‘d been telling herself for months had crumbled right in front of her, but she‘d been so happy that she hadn‘t even felt the shards cutting into her feet where she stood. When she looked down now, she saw the ground streaked with blood. Just thinking about what would happen if anyone found out what had happened between her and Widow made her sick to her stomach. How she wished she could just fake both of their deaths and disappear with Widow, just the way she‘d done all those years ago when the Conspiracy had found her, but truth be told, she wasn‘t sure whether Widow could survive without her injections. She had brought enough to last for the two weeks here, but no more than that, and Sombra was convinced that was an intentional decision on Akande‘s part to make sure neither of them tried anything. 

So running away wasn‘t an option. But the closer they got to the end of their little vacation, the more Sombra got the feeling that going back wasn‘t an option either. She did her best not to let her worry show too much in front of Widow, but she knew she wasn‘t doing a very good job. Widow didn‘t speak to her about it, and Sombra wasn‘t sure whether it was because she hadn‘t realized that anything was wrong, because she didn‘t want to, or because she didn‘t know how to, but either way, they never talked about it, even as the unspoken truth seemed to hang in the air between them, heavy as lead. 

On their last day, Sombra was quiet, completely unlike her. She was quiet as she and Widow packed their things and restored the house to the exact state it had been in when they‘d arrived, to make sure the owner wouldn‘t notice he‘d had uninvited visitors during his absence. She was quiet when they went down to the beach one last time, not even the beautiful view or Widow leaning against her and occasionally pressing light kisses to her neck able to distract her from her dark thoughts. She was quiet during dinner, and she was sure that Widow had noticed at this point, but if she cared at all, she didn‘t show it, or maybe wasn‘t sure how to approach the subject. Either way, she, too, remained silent, and Sombra hated how the absence of words between them felt like a burden for the first time since they‘d met. 

Only after they‘d put the last dishes of their stay here away did their normal routine pick up again. A first single chaste kiss was quickly followed up on by more, hungrier, open-mouthed ones, Sombra pulling the tie out of Widow‘s hair to let it tumble freely over her shoulders. The feeling of Widow‘s hands digging into her hips and pulling them closer together was blissfully familiar by now, as was the taste of her lips, the feel of the silky strands of her hair almost slipping through Sombra‘s fingers as she tangled her hands in them. They quickly moved from the kitchen to the bedroom, the only room they hadn‘t completely tidied up yet, and Sombra found herself pinned against the wall, Widow already out of her shirt, working on the button of Sombra‘s pants with shaking, impatient hands. Sombra focused on scraping her teeth across the fragile skin of Widow‘s throat, feeling the vibrations of her moans under her lips. She knew she couldn‘t leave marks on her, but God, how she wanted to, how she wished she would be able to look at her the next morning and see her neck strewn with bruises, with proof that she was hers, proof that Talon couldn‘t touch her anymore, proof that it was real, whatever this was - oh God, how she wanted it to be real, how everything inside her hurt at just the thought-

She had begun muttering Spanish nonsense against Widow‘s neck, pants halfway down her legs by now. Even as she was speaking the words she wasn‘t sure what she was saying, the sounds catching up to her like they came from an outside source, her ears registering them, but her brain unable to. 

„ _Dios, Dios mio, no la lleves, no te la lleves, te imploro-_ “ 

„Sombra?“ 

Widow had pulled away, hands stilling, a frown on her pretty face. 

„Wha- what‘s wrong?“ Sombra was surprised to notice that her voice was trembling.

„Why are you crying?“ 

For a moment, Sombra just stared at her, mouth half open, mind unable to register what Widow had said. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and only when she tasted the salt on them did she realize that her cheeks were wet with tears, and she was shaking so hard that it hurt. 

„Did I do something?“ Widow almost sounded panicked now. „Did- did I hurt you?“ 

Sombra could only shake her head. No words would come out of her mouth. Her legs suddenly felt like jelly, and started to give out underneath her when Widow caught her and gently lowered them both onto the floor. Very carefully, she wrapped her arms around Sombra‘s shaking form, back still pressed against the wall. Her half removed jeans awkwardly cut into her flesh in this position and she struggled to kick them the rest of the way off, allowing Widow to kneel between her legs and pull her closer. Her touch had lost all of its sensual, searing nature. Now it was just desperate. 

Sombra buried her face in Widow‘s hair, body wracked by loud sobs she couldn‘t suppress no matter how hard she tried. 

„I‘m sorry“, she managed to whimper after several failed attempts. 

„No, no...“ Widow softly stroked her hair. „It‘s okay.“ One of her hands came up to cradle Sombra‘s head against her shoulder. Sombra only cried harder. Something within her felt like it was being torn apart. The fear that had slowly been festering inside her over the last several days now suddenly broke out, like a giant wave breaking down a dam. She felt like she couldn‘t breathe. 

Widow was holding her like she was made of glass, like something fragile and breakable. Sombra knew she was probably scared and confused and she had every right to. Sombra hated herself for doing this to her. She‘d singlehandedly ruined their last evening here, all because she couldn‘t hold herself together for a few hours more. She‘d done it every day for over twenty years. What, oh what, was it about this cold, sad woman, this magnificent creature, that made her come apart at the seams so easily? 

It wasn‘t supposed to be like this. _She_ was the one who was supposed to be there for Widow. It wasn‘t Widow‘s job to keep her from breaking, wasn‘t her responsibility to hold the mess of bones and circuits that was Sombra together. 

She remembered that day in the server room, when the image of the Bastion unit had made her panic and collapse, much like she had done now. Back then, she hadn‘t been able to stand even the idea of Widow touching her. Now, it felt like the sniper‘s arms around her were the only thing that kept her from shattering into a million tiny pieces. And Sombra knew how wrong it was, but she simply couldn‘t bring herself to push Widow away. She never could. No matter much she knew she should. 

She drew a back a little, quivering hands coming up to cup Widow‘s face. Her golden eyes were wide, brow furrowed, an expression of sadness and worry. The kind of expression Sombra had long feared to be the cause of ever again. 

Absentmindedly, she stroked Widow‘s cheek with her thumb, envisioning the drops of blood scattered over it from being beaten by Talon‘s goons, how they‘d smudge under her finger. How that face would look rigid and cold and dead. 

A harsh sob escaped Sombra‘s throat. There were still tears running down her cheeks, but she ignored them. 

„ _Mi cielo_ , are you happy?“ The words came out barely coherent, but Sombra could tell Widow had understood by the way a trace of shock found its way into her expression. 

„Did this... did any of this make you happy?“, she implored again, voice urgent, desperate. Widow was silent for several moments, mouth opening and then closing again, seemingly unable to find any words. 

„I don‘t know“, she said finally. „I don‘t know what happy means.“ 

Sombra‘s heartbeat seemed unbearably loud in her ears. She didn‘t speak for a long time, still lightly stroking Widow‘s cheeks, almost like in a trance. Her sobs quieted down after a while, though the tear in her soul didn‘t close. The wound was only starting to fester. The blood was drying, but that didn‘t mean it wasn‘t still there.

After what seemed like an eternity, she leaned in and pressed her lips to Widow‘s in what was probably the most heartbreakingly gentle kiss they‘d ever shared. 

„I love you“, Sombra whispered against her mouth. „I love you.“ 

Widow didn‘t reply. Her eyes were wide open when Sombra drew back, her expression unreadable. Something unbearably heavy settled on Sombra‘s chest. She tipped her head forward and rested it against Widow‘s collarbone, fighting back a fresh wave of tears. Widow‘s hands were absentmindedly combing through her hair, but for the first time, her touch couldn‘t bring Sombra comfort. 

They remained like that for several more minutes, until eventually, Widow pried herself out of Sombra‘s arms, very gently, picked her up and carried her over to the bed. She laid her down on the sheets, made sure she was comfortable, and drew the blanket over her shaking body. Sombra clutched the pillow tightly to her, trying to come to terms with the fact that Widow wouldn‘t be sleeping next to her tonight, but then she heard the sound of clothes quietly hitting the floor, and the mattress dipped as a weight settled in behind Sombra. 

Widow buried her nose in the back of her neck like she always had, threw an arm over her waist like she always had, and yet, when Sombra finally fell asleep, there was a sick feeling in her heart that she couldn‘t shake, no matter how she tried to shut it out and pretend that everything was still okay.

\-----------------

When Sombra awoke the next morning and remembered the events of the previous night, she immediately screwed her eyes tightly shut again and tried to will herself to go back to sleep. She‘d had nightmares, though she couldn‘t remember what of, but even that seemed better than having to face Widow now.

A cold hand touched her cheek. „Sombra?“ It was barely more than a whisper. „Are you awake?“ 

Reluctantly, Sombra opened her eyes, only to find a pair of shining golden ones looking back at her, only a few inches separating them. Only now did she realize how Widow had wrapped herself around her, arm around her waist, one leg slung over her hip, foreheads pressed together, like she wanted to keep her close at any cost. 

„I think“, Widow whispered, „I know a little bit of what happy means now.“ 

The sun had begun to rise outside, and a few birds could be heard chirping in the distance. If one listened very closely, there was also the sound of waves rolling over the sand. The ever-present sea breeze making palm tree leaves rustle. 

But above all that, there was a low rumbling, a deep, dark sound, still far away, but undeniable. 

There was a storm coming. There was nothing anyone could do to stop it. 

The only thing that remained to be seen was what would be left in its wake once the pitch black clouds had dissipated into nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations:
> 
> chula - beautiful
> 
> merci - thank you
> 
> cariño - darling
> 
> preciosa - precious
> 
> Dios mio - oh my god 
> 
> Dios, Dios mio, no la lleves, no te la lleves, te imploro - god, my god, don't take her, don't take her away from me, i'm begging you 
> 
> the artist featured in this chapter is @mothnip on tumblr! i really love this piece, it captures the atmosphere so well T.T


	5. Epilogue

They got back around noon the next day. Most of the flight back had been silent, but it hadn‘t been the uncomfortable silence Sombra had been dreading. They‘d shared a single seat again, this time without the slight sense of nervousness, of uncertainty. There was nothing hesitant in the way Widow wrapped an arm around Sombra‘s shoulders and Sombra rested her head in the crook of Widow‘s neck, legs draped over Widow‘s lap. In sharp contrast to the tumultuous night before, she felt strangely at peace. Calm. She knew what awaited them back at the base. She‘d been dreading it for two weeks, and she dreaded it now, but something had changed that night, and that morning, with the things they‘d told each other, what they hadn‘t been able to hold in anymore. Sombra was familiar with Widow‘s body by now, but she had never felt this close to her before, even as they drew closer to the place they both despised so much with each passing minute. 

Moira was waiting for them in the hangar, along with several ordinary Talon goons in uniform. She immediately reached for Widow‘s arm, spindly, pale fingers digging in the soft blue flesh, and commanded her to come with her for a „necessary“ examination. Without thinking about it, Sombra did something she had never done before. 

„Hands off, _bruja_.“ She slapped Moira‘s hand away. „She‘s not going anywhere near that place.“ Her tone offered no room for compromise. 

Moira stared at her for a moment, speechless. „You are in no position to make demands at me, Sombra.“ 

„I‘m not making demands. That would mean you could refuse them.“ Her gaze met Moira‘s unwaveringly. „You aren‘t touching her.“ 

Moira protested. Sombra didn‘t let up. Widow wasn‘t taken down for examination. 

On their next mission, Sombra planted a translocator at Widow‘s vantage point. Akande regarded it with a frown and informed Sombra that it went against protocol, but Sombra didn‘t even bat an eye and told him to mind his own business. From the corner of her eye, she could see a smile just barely making Widow‘s mouth twitch. 

There was something comforting in the knowledge that no matter what happened, they were only one snap of Sombra‘s fingers away from each other. Sombra kept a hacked security camera pointed at Widow, and set an alarm that would set off a screeching noise in her head the moment anyone attacked the sniper. She did it every mission, and she never had to use it, but the comfort was there, for Widow as much as for herself. Widow, in turn, paid more attention to Sombra during fights than to anyone else. Her bullets had never buried themselves in the foreheads of her targets cleaner, with more deadly grace, than they did now when someone got too close to Sombra. 

When Sombra‘s part of the plan was done, she translocated up to Widow and sat next to her, head on her shoulder until the moment she had to fire. Once the target was dead, they‘d return to the dropship together, holding hands. Sombra‘s were smeared with blood more often than not, but Widow didn‘t care. Moira‘s gaze burned holes into their foreheads every time. One day, Widow returned her gaze, molten gold meeting icy blue and blood red, grabbed Sombra by the back of her head and pulled her in to give her a firm kiss on the mouth. 

_I dare you, old witch_ , the look in her eyes said. _I dare you._ Moira remained silent. 

Sombra‘s nights were spent digging through Talon‘s foundations more often than not, taking everything apart and putting it back together just well enough for no one else to notice, but still leaving herself a way to get back in whenever she wanted. She was looking for something, though she didn‘t know exactly what yet. But she was certain she‘d find it eventually. She had her claws buried deep in the organizations databases already. All she needed was something she could use to light the fuse that would burn Talon to the ground. It was a tiresome, time consuming project, and Sombra grew frustrated with it frequently, but then she‘d throw a glance over her shoulder at Widow sound asleep on the bed, hair spilling across the pillows, skin a lovely lavender in the purple light of Sombra‘s screens, and she knew it was all worth it. Widow was worth it. 

In the afternoons, they lay in bed together, foreheads pressed against each other, eyes wide open, hands clasped together tightly between them. Over and over, they‘d whisper promises to each other, promises that no matter what happened, there was nothing that could make either of them leave the other behind, that they‘d see all this through together somehow. They were both terrified, and they had every reason to, but as long as they could just keep this - this fragile, lovely thing between them - they had something that made it worth it to keep going. Sombra knew Widow was tired, and so was she, but as long as she had breath in her lungs, she would do everything in her power to make sure that a day would come when they could finally, finally rest. A day when kissing Widow wasn‘t an act of rebellion that could cost them both their lives anymore. A day when they‘d get back the little scrap of happiness they‘d found in that house by the seaside, and this time, they would make it stay. 

„What about your conspiracy?“, Widow asked sometimes. „Isn‘t that more important?“ 

Sombra just silently shook her head. No. Nothing was more important.

Widow closed her eyes. „Tell me again.“ 

„I love you“, Sombra whispered. „I love you.“ 

Widow never said it back. She didn‘t have to. The way her hands tightened around Sombra‘s, the way she let out a tiny breath like it had been causing her agony was everything Sombra needed to know. 

When Sombra fell asleep at night, she dreamt of the red eye of the Conspiracy staring her down, just like she had so many times for the past eleven years. Usually, she was alone in these dreams, frozen in place with terror, but now, there was nothing. No pain. No fear. She didn‘t flinch under the eye‘s gaze. All she felt was a slight chill where something touched her hand, and when she turned her head, there were blue fingers intertwined with hers, and seven smaller red eyes glowing in the darkness next to her. 

For the first time in her life, Sombra wasn‘t scared anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translation: 
> 
> bruja - witch


End file.
